


Arkham Exorcism

by RandyWrites



Series: AU: Magic Foster Family [3]
Category: Bombshells (Comics), Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), DCU (Comics), Justice League Dark (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: (hey it aint Rae's first rodeo but STILL), F/F, F/M, Light Child Endangerment, Light Death Mention/Description, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Reconciliation, supernatural horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-21 03:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandyWrites/pseuds/RandyWrites
Summary: Batcomputer Case File: CZR-102803Casetype: Paranorm/InvestigativeBrief. - Upon the request of the current Owner/Director of Arkham Asylum, I've asked Constantine to investigate the paranormal activity reportedly running rampant at the facility. Staff members believed the changes due to renovations have unsettled Amadeus Arkham from his eternal rest. The following is the fullest account gathered of what transpired on the October night that John's family entered the Asylum. Many elements remain unexplained or missing. Note: Further questioning and investigation may be required...





	1. Chapter 1

Against what her parents had wanted for her, Raven had seen more than her fair share of hospitals in her thus far short, yet eventful life. More than a few had been mental health facilities such as this one, but none had ever been in such a sad state of disrepair as the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

And while sitting beside her mom upon a severely dilapidated bench, with an excellent view of the entrance to the grounds, Raven gave it a very critical look. She really couldn't help herself, it was just so different from all the others she had seen before.

Had it been any other time of the year, she supposed the grounds might not have looked quite so dreary. The trees surrounding the property were fully turned in preparation for winter, gray and nearly naked from the strongest windstorms that Gotham had seen in over a decade. Their skeletal branches seemed to reach, as if in need, towards the sky. The gardens and shrubbery that Raven could see through the gate were in a state of taking over many of the same buildings they were meant to complement. The buildings themselves were mostly covered in ivy, or were crumbling to the point of collapse.

As her dad had put it earlier that day, the asylum truly was putting the goth back in Victorian Gothic.

Raven thought it surprising that the grounds had been declared fit to house people in the first place.

But, as she'd been told by her parents, that's what the recent, city-mandated renovations were for.

She turned away from the rusting iron gateway that held the island's namesake, to see her dad taking another drag from his cigarette as he chatted idly with a few guards on their break. The ' _No Smoking_ ' policy was really one that was _loosely_ enforced, now that most of the patients had been relocated, but he was trying to set the right example by following the rule anyway. For Raven's sake.

She knew, though, that if she hadn't come with them, he'd probably be inside already, lighting one up just to get a rise out of the nurses. Sure, John Constantine wasn't exactly Father of the Year, but he had his moments. And he was certainly a better father to her than a certain demon ever could hope to be.

Her mom caught her eye as she began shaking her head at John's antics, his hands becoming a bit more animated as he continued his conversation with the guards. Raven couldn't feel their auras as well from this distance, but she was certain it was quickly devolving into a petty argument.

"He's going to get himself thrown in and left behind at this rate, don't you think?" the older sorceress joked with her, and Raven was smiling and laughing despite herself. Zatanna always seemed to have a way of cutting right through any pretense that Raven was still prone to putting up.

It was a strange experiment they had been trying these past three, going on four, years. Though she spent those first few years of her life emotionally isolated from others, ever so slowly, John and Zee had been bringing her out of her shell. It was little moments, like letting herself be incredibly amused by her foster dad's shenanigans, that occasionally took her off guard.

It was nice. Relaxing to let oneself feel such good emotions, mild as they often were.

Now the image of him being straight-jacketed as some form of revenge on the guards' part was running through her head. She snickered, imaging him relying on another inmate to help him _'have a light'_. It was something Raven couldn't get out of her head. As she shared the joke of that image with Zatanna, her barely contained laughter became infectious, and they began to laugh even harder over it. And for just another moment-

Raven let out a yelp as her fingers sparked electrically, though the shock was purely in the surprise.

 _'That wasn't even that bad_ ,' she thought. But it was the first time in a long while that her powers had reacted in such a way to her emotions, good or bad. She knew was getting much better at recognizing what she was feeling and how intensely, but as with everything, it was still a learning process.

 _'Just one lapse. It's not that bad._ ' She was trying to reason with herself, and reconcile this emotion. It was no reason to shut down completely, they'd made too much progress for her to go back to repressing her feelings again.

John's reaction was quick, putting out his half-finished cigarette and rushing over to the two as Zatanna had placed her own hands on the girl's back. A means to give comfort, but not one that was particularly needed.

"Everything alright? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Raven said, "Just some... static. 'Surprised me, is all."

John stayed a moment longer, kneeling in front of her and searching her eyes for the truth. The girl's own blue eyes stared into his, trying to keep a straight face as the image from before popped back into her head. She felt her lip twitch almost into a smile, but she bit it back.

This was a serious matter, a serious mission, for serious sorcerers! She wasn't going to compromise her place on this investigation over a minor slip-up!

It turned into a bit of a staring contest between the father and daughter for a few, brief seconds. At least, she thought so until he sighed and stood back up, breaking it off. "'Suppose it's time we meet the man in charge, then?"

He offered his hand to help her off the bench, and without any other fuss, the trio found themselves approaching the entrance.

 _'No going back once we're in_ ,' Raven remembered Zee warning her that morning.

Her first mission. Or at the very least, her first _'house call'_ with her parents. Sure, there had been plenty of lessons gone wrong from the comfort of whatever place they had made their home. She was known to sneak her way into whatever work they _'brought home'_ with them as well. And many an accidental misadventure with Gotham's resident heroes had been had, even when her parents tried their best to keep her out of it.

But this _particular_ adventure would mark her first mission that she had been _purposefully_ invited to by them. Possibly in an attempt to start taking control back over her safety. Their line of work was a dangerous one, after all. And from the sense she was already starting to pick up from the island, this mission would be no different.

It was a feeling that settled right in her stomach, a familiar worry and fear that settled right into her bones. But it was also very old and faint. Something that could be felt and shrugged off as easily as a leaf falling on her shoulder. It reminded her of the general restlessness of Gotham. The city had many emotional, and maybe a few literal, demons lurking around every corner. It was something that needed to absolutely be acknowledged, but definitely not allowed to linger for too long.

At least, that’s what John and Zee, both, had been trying to teach her.

So, she let these thoughts and feelings pass through her like water in a stream. Her parents weren't ones to back down from a task they had been sent to complete, and neither was she.

Though as they formally entered the grounds, passing through those iron gates, and those feelings intensified once more, she wasn't so sure about the bravery that brought her there initially. Like a light switch, something distinctly _flickered on_ as the boundary was passed, and the soul of the island began to come alive around her.

Disconcerting, and much harder to push away than before. She did her best as they pressed on, holding a bit tighter to her parents’ hands.

"Mr. Constantine, I presume?" a doctor greeted as he met them halfway down the path from the gate, "I... didn't realize you'd be bringing your family along with you."

 _Did_ they look like a family? Despite all the years she had spent with them, it was something that always took Raven by surprise, when others recognized and called them as much. Maybe because it was only a partial truth. She presumed at a glance, she and Zatanna could certainly be perceived so, what with their nearly identical black hair and blue eyes. But that's really where the resemblance stopped. And as for Constantine...

Today he had tidied himself up a bit, his usually loose red tie, tightened, and his clothes less rumpled than usual. His trench coat was worn down and ragged from so many adventures, but there was really nothing that could be helped for it at this point. Of course, he hadn't quite been able to rid himself of his 5 o'clock shadow, but from what he had heard about the director, he was certain that a little bit of unkemptness wouldn't be minded. Raven thought that John just really liked the devil-may-care attitude that it added to his aura. And she was right on the money about that, though he would never admit it.

Zatanna had settled on navy slacks and a blazer to match, a simple white blouse and black flats to complete the look. Stunning as always, she had her hair down for this outing, and she was still just as magical without needing her usual stage outfit and up-do. Raven always thought she looked better without them, anyways. Though, the girl would admit she was prone to stealing her mother's top hat when given the opportunity, which was likely another reason for the outfit change. Zee swore it was simply due to practicality and their need to be discrete, to not draw attention. Raven was certain she didn't want to upstage John right from the beginning, since it was technically _his_ mission.

And finally, there was Raven. Having just turned nine years old a few days ago, she wore a simple outfit consisting of jeans, a bright pink t-shirt, and her now-favorite light blue sweater that had stars printed on the back & sides, which had been a gift from her _Aunt_ Mazikeen. Zatanna insisted on french braiding her hair, as it had grown quite long. (' _And you never know if we'll run into trouble, you'll need it out of your face_ .') Her sneakers squeaked with every other step, having been worn well past their usefulness ( _‘the light-up effect only works half of the time now!_ ’), but John wasn't able to change her mind yet about throwing them out for a new pair.

She supposed, to most people, they did _indeed_ look like a family. And for all intents and purposes, they were. But how other people perceived them was yet another thing that took her some getting use to. She'd only had a family like this for little less than half her life at this point, and yet they meant more than the whole world to her.

She shook her head slightly, as if to physically clear those thoughts from her head, and focused her attention back on the man before them.

Raven sensed unease on the doctor as he approached. _Nervousness_ ? _Agitation_ ? Definitely _malcontent_ , but maybe, not necessarily directed at _them_. She took note of the doctor's appearance as he introduced himself as Jeremiah Arkham IV, the director of the Asylum. He reminded her of the Penguin, short and portly, but the comparison ended right there. His features were round and generally friendly. He was probably in his mid-50s, with a weathered smile and tired, grey eyes. His brown hair was distinctly greying in several spots, likely from stress.

The girl smiled for herself in realization. It would seem those _tips_ from Robin about how to analyze someone were coming more naturally than she thought, she did it almost automatically now after her usual empathy check.

"And you would be... Mrs. Constantine?" he asked, turning to shake Zatanna's hand after his introduction. Raven then wanted to kick herself mentally for not paying better attention to his words. Well, if she missed anything _important_ , she was sure John and Zee would bring it up later.

"Ms. Zatara," she corrected with a gracious smile, "Most people know me by Zatanna."

The doctor's eyes widened in surprise and recognition. " _The_ Zatanna? The _stage magician_?"

"The one and only," John affirmed, a proud smile on his face, "I like to bring a team that I know can pull my arse out of hot water. ‘specially, if I'm going to be diving in head first."

"Hmm," Jeremiah hummed as he turned to the only member left, crouching down to face Raven. She could sense a rather lot of condescension on his end, but it looked like the crouching took some effort, which she found some comfort and justice in. "And who might this be, then?"

With his full attention on Raven, she felt his aura projected more forcefully than before. _Anxiety, doubt, distress_ , so many things plagued this man. Had it not been so sudden and violent, she might have shot back at him with some smart remark. But at this moment, she was overwhelmed.

Not wanting to cause a scene or let it get the best of her, she instinctively reached for Zatanna's hand, and the calmness that came with it. She stepped closer to her mother's side automatically, to shield herself from him.

No matter how dark things got, Raven was always grateful for the light that Zatanna brought. Sure, the sorceress had her own demons, many which she had not shared with Raven, and had little intention of ever doing so. But even with them, she was a light that the girl had learned to count on time and time again.

With that in mind, this behavior that she exhibited now was something that most people would interpret as _shyness_. Dr. Arkham, however, with more than 30 years of professional clinical experience, was one to diagnose it as a sign of developing social anxiety. He opened his mouth, as if to air this opinion, but closed it just as quickly.

Always better to wait for the parents to _ask_ for diagnoses, rather than spouting them off.

He began to straighten himself as John answered for her, using an identity they had fabricated for situations such as this one.

"That would be _our Rachel_ ," the exorcist lied effortlessly, " _Insisted_ on coming along to see how these things are done."

"Yes, well, while I'm sure that might be all well and good for _you_ , this institution is _not_ a place for _children_." Raven didn't bother to hide her scowl at his words, balling a fist in anger, and slowly trying to release it.

He had no idea what they were capable of. But getting angry over someone else's ignorance was never the way to go. It was a hard lesson Raven had learned all too long ago.

"Even with most of the patients relocated-"

"We're a _family act_ , Dr. Arkham. You can take _all of us_ ," Zatanna squeezed Raven's hand a bit tighter for a second. Raven felt her solidarity and reassurance, a relief after the flash of anger that the girl had been feeling. The burden was now easier to bear as her mom seemed to acknowledge it. "Or none of us, at all."

"Oh- ah- very well, then, hmm," the doctor stuttered, his face reddening for a moment, and Raven shared in Zatanna's satisfaction at the sight of it. "Let's be sure that she stays off of the West side of the island, hmm? If you'll follow me..."

He led them down the path and away from the first building at the end of it, chatting idly about the different facilities and programs the island hosted, a tour-like speech he'd likely practiced for many a prospective guest to his asylum. As they made their way to one of the gates through the hillside that would lead to the East end of the island, Raven found herself glancing back at the building they had passed.

Intensive Treatment.

A dangerous pull emanated from it, and this time, Raven distinctly and fully felt the fear that had seeped into the very fabric of the island. Her heart raced faster in her chest, hands becoming clammy, her breath catching. A cold shiver went down her spine.

No. That was a _cold presence_ , wasn't it?

She had been told most of the basics about the island's history, spared of the more intense or upsetting details, though she'd had a rough idea of what they might entail. Arkham Island had little over a hundred years of death, decay, and destruction to its name. It was a place where one too many lost souls had met an end, and it was entirely possible that many of them would linger, especially the more violent or vengeful ones. That was just the way that this world she lived in worked, a reality she was more than familiar and comfortable with... usually.

But that _pull_ was something that tugged at a part of her that she knew needed to stay locked away. However tempting the power that she could unleash was, if she let such negativity, such anger and fear overwhelm her...

She knew it was _right_ to fight it. It was what she had been taught _since birth_. This test of control would be no different than all the others before.

She turned away quickly and breathed deeply for a moment, and after a few more breaths of calm, she took another critical look at the building before it was about to disappear from view. Even without her powers screaming at her about every bad vibe that was literally _emanating_ from it, the crumbling Gothic architecture definitely didn't lend itself to being the friendliest of places. The building was stoic, uninviting, and downright bleak.

She turned away quickly as the tunnel's gates opened ahead of them.

 _'Shake it off, just like a leaf. Just like before_.'

Zatanna's hand held her own tighter for moment as the building finally disappeared from view, and the gates clanked together with some finality. But even as they quietly made their way through the tunnel, Raven could not fully shake all of the negative energy that surrounded them on every side now.

Certainly, this was no place for kids.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Arkham shares the island's history with Constantine. Constantine muses on what paranormal investigation is really all about.

There were very few things that Constantine cared about in the world. So few, in fact, that he could count them all on one hand, and probably by fate, or some cruel joke that it liked to play, he would be forced to lose them or replace them in time. Two of the longer lasting ones, however, he had brought along with him on this mission.

Not that they would've given him much  _ choice _ in the matter.

This week was one of the few times that Zatanna was going to be in Gotham for the fall, and though John could tell she was still angry with him, she insisted on keeping their family together during this time. After all, celebrating Raven's birthday as well as the week leading up to All Hallow's Eve, had become a tradition for their little family; their own personal relationship status be damned.

With Raven having proven herself time and again, Constantine had decided it was high time she was brought along for a  _ proper _ investigation. It would certainly be much better than letting her sneak off with the Bat's sidekicks to stir up God knows how much trouble, as she was prone to do.

Of course, it was  _ Batman _ who was truly responsible for putting John in this mess he was in now. This mission wasn't quite something he would have picked out for himself, given that it was technically a charity case. More the kind of chore for a  _ cleaning crew,  _ a job with no real payoff.

Simple enough to reclassify as a task, rather than a mission, really.

John could almost imagine ticking them off one at a time like items on a grocery list.  _ 'Step one: investigate Arkham Asylum for spooks and specters. Step two: tell 'em to bugger off _ .' All too simple.

He'd be lying if said he hadn't been more than tempted to send in the girl by herself for this one.

No, Constantine certainly did  _ not _ care for working in a world where these kinds of cases seemed to take priority over ones that truly mattered to him. But Bruce had called in a favor on him.

Well, it was more like blackmail. Something that Zee didn't need to know of. A  _ particular _ incident that she could hold over his head, too. In fact, there was no reason for her to find out about it, at all! Which was why John had begrudgingly agreed to work on this case,  _ hands on _ .

At a glance, the claimed ' _ hauntings _ ' of Arkham Island never held much water to the demonologist. He'd had the misfortune of watching one too many episodes of  _ Haunted Hot-Spots _ when Raven went through her self-described 'ghost phase', and caught one special that centered entirely around the infamous Asylum, followed by another couple episodes of other popular beds of paranormal activity in Gotham.

He was never certain of what entertainment she saw in it, especially given all the outrageous inaccuracies they often presented in their ' _ paranormal investigations _ ', but John had a sneaking suspicion she liked hearing him angrily debunking them. The methods used by many of the supposed  _ ghost-hunters _ on those kinds of shows were often ludicrous in the first place, but what really made John's blood boil, was the way they often glossed over the history behind the deaths of the ghosts they were 'investigating'. It was something he had encountered time and time again when on a job, often meaning the difference between life or limb being lost.

With that being said, Constantine also never cared much for listening to others explain their supernatural history, even if it was something that came with the job. Most of it was usually flat out lies or, heaven forbid, embellishments. Especially when the actual cause of the 'haunting' was something much more human. But on occasion, he'd find a soul like Dr. Arkham. A man of science, who sticks to what he knows, factually, about the situation, and holds everything else with a grain of salt, only providing all the  _ relevant _ information one needs.

It was hard to doubt someone who was just as skeptical about the strange going-ons as any  _ normal _ person should be.

And so here John found himself this evening, listening as Jeremiah recounted his family history, trudging ahead of Raven and Zatanna along the path to the Arkham Mansion. The sun had not yet set on the horizon, keeping the walkway from the gate well lit as they pressed on past the Botanical Gardens.

Apparently, Dr. Arkham's family could trace its 'curse' (which he believed to be a euphemism for the mental illness that ran in the family) to long before they set across the seas for the New World. But their troubles only truly escalated at the turn of the 20th century.

"The namesake of the asylum, my great-grandmother Elizabeth, was fighting a losing battle with dementia and what we now believe was schizophrenia. My great-uncle, Amadeus, was the only one left at the time to care for her, and he chose to, ahem, well," the doctor took a glance at Raven then. The girl eyed the gardens with curiosity and quietly asked Zatanna a question in their own private conversation.

Concern for innocence. John wished sadly, even for a moment, that the Doctor's judgement had been true. The things that Constantine's daughter had witnessed at such a young age were worse than what many would see over a lifetime. And yet, for their line of work, it was exactly their brand of  _ normal _ , and precisely those experiences that would need to be called upon for the safety and comfort of those they wished to protect.

All things came at a cost, as John had learned over the years. True innocence was usually the first to go when dealing with the harsh realities of magic.

The doctor lowered his voice so just John would hear, and continued his tale. "He chose to euthanize her, though he'd manage to block the memory for some time after. Soon after that, Amadeus began work on redeveloping the grounds into the Asylum as it is now, in her honor. Before the work on Arkham Island was finished, however, his family- a lovely wife and daughter- had been... er, well, to put it bluntly, they were rather  _ brutally _ murdered. And, ironically enough, their murderer would be one of the first patients that Amadeus would treat."

As they moved closer to the mansion, John noticed how restless the doctor seemed to get, fidgeting with his wristwatch and hands. Batman had told Constantine that he suspected the family's history with mental illness didn't stop with Amadeus, and warned him that Jeremiah exhibited many signs of acute anxiety and multiple personality disorder. To John, he didn't seem quite like the 'nut running a nuthouse' as the Bat's tween-sidekick had oh-so-delicately put it, but it was certainly something to note.

"Sometime after, the stress of keeping the asylum running, as well as his unfortunate dual personality, caught up to him. He was committed to the very same institution he had been running. My grandfather took over soon after, and my father after him, and as you can very well see, I've followed suit as well. My father had warned me that our family was  _ cursed _ , beset by a demon or some other. But I-"

"You never took much to it, until recently," John finished.

They had arrived at the doors to the mansion, though it long ago had been converted to the primary building for administration. It was in a pretty sorry state, just like the other buildings. Covered in vines, some bushes still clinging to the ground, as if pretending they hadn't been hacked away, and brick crumbling along the corners and the- dear lord, were those  _ turrets _ ? And here John was thinking the  _ bell tower _ looming out of the building was a _ bit much _ .

It was a far cry from Wayne Manor, that much was certain.

"I'd take a guess that most of those deaths you mentioned occurred in this very building, then?" Only partly phrased as a question, John kept his eyes roaming the facade of the mansion, not expecting an answer.

Some lights had been left on, illuminating the windows and casting odd shadows as the sun continued it's dip towards the horizon. The evening was settling in, clouds rolled in from the city, and soon the island would be shrouded by darkness. The autumn chill of the day would soon turn into a freezing night.

"We didn't have any trouble with  _ starting _ work in Intensive Treatment. And the plans to demolish the Penitentiary went swimmingly. But, well, we started work on the three main buildings on each side of the island concurrently... As soon as there was word of a haunting in  _ one _ , the crew unionized and, well-" The doctor seemed to be at a loss for words, wringing his hands with more harshness than he had before.

"Why don't you tell me exactly what had them so spooked, eh, doc?"

"I hardly believe it myself, honestly," Jeremiah running a hand through his greying hair as he explained, "But after all the files had been relocated and the furniture was cleared to make way for the equipment... They said it started with work lamps flickering on and off when not plugged in. It would, supposedly, escalate when they began tearing down walls or pulling up flooring." He began shaking his head in disbelief as he continued, "Someone even said that ' _ the House doesn't want to be disturbed _ ', could you believe it?"

"Don't have to believe it, doc. But I do need to know if any of those blokes were  _ directly _ harmed or  _ targeted _ during these so-called  _ hauntings _ ."

Constantine knew this kind of question wouldn't narrow down much, but it  _ would _ help them in separating the activity from being either demonic or that of a poltergeist. They each had their challenges, of course. Demons were trickier, tougher, but ultimately all too familiar to John.

But ghosts... now  _ those _ were usually ones that John tried to avoid. Often too many problems that needed solving for that kind. If you offered to help one and others caught wind of it, you'd end up as a paranormal  _ avenger _ in no time at all. It was too much commitment, with little to no pay-off. Certainly not where John was concerned.

"A lot of the crew has had their share of worksite accidents from previous jobs, and I only visited with their teams a few times. I- I have no clue, but please, I'm begging you," Jeremiah pleaded, he looked ready to clasp his hands together and get on his knees, "Put their minds at ease. The Wayne Foundation has been very generous in providing proper funding for these renovations, but if the fund runs out-"

"We'll all be in quite a tight spot what with those  _ rogues _ running loose," John guessed, and realized he'd been cornered.

No matter the spirit, there was more at stake here than simply being pestered by the dead for a mere  _ good deed _ . They were here to perform a public service. Something of a higher calling than playing spiritual exterminator for the Batman. And, very likely, Bats was using that very dilemma to test where Constantine's loyalties really lie.

Why else would he threaten John, of all people, to spearhead a mission like this, when there'd been so many more reasons to simply ask? The blackmail was just another one of his bargaining tools, and he had John right where he needed him, with no options or reasons to back out now with a clear conscience.

The Hellblazer would have to figure out a way to get back at ol' Bats before the week was up. Teach  _ him _ to try to give ol' Johnny the run around with these insipid games of his. But thoughts of revenge would have to be set aside, for now.

The doctor nodded in affirmation. "Yes, precisely. You understand how dire the situation is!"

"I'd say it's high time we take a look inside, then. Wouldn't you, luvs?" As they turned back to face Zatanna and Raven, who had fallen behind a bit more than expected, John caught how the building's shadows played tricks on his eyes. Mostly tree branches that swayed in the wind, and those same lights from before that had been left on and forgotten, but you never could tell if there was  _ something _ in those flickers. Shapes and shadows that seemed a little too human, and moved a little too oddly.

Thoughts were interrupted as Raven began a quick sprint to catch up to them, leaving Zatanna behind yelling, " _ You little cheat!" _ as they raced to the doors. She yelled a quick " _ Catch me!" _ to her father, before jumping with a surprising amount of strength into John's arms. She even managed to clear quite a number of the steps as she did so.

Back to herself, it looked for the most part. Definitely not the same, shy kid that had been introduced to the doctor not all that long before.

The exorcist was just barely able to stop them both from toppling over, catching her contagious laugh along with the bugger herself. No longer that small, scared five-year-old he had accidentally summoned all those years ago, she was growing up right before his eyes. John couldn't help but feel a small tinge of sadness for the day she'd be too big for him to catch like this. The day she's no longer be his  _ little _ girl. And for a moment, the weight of bringing her fully into this mess, this mission, began to make itself known.

"Well, aren't we eager to see this  _ demon _ ," John smiled, pushing the feeling aside.

He set her down as Zatanna caught up to them, breathless. He turned to her, skeptically quirking an eyebrow at her. "Shall we?"

"Give a girl a minute," she said between gasps, leaning against the building to keep herself upright for the moment. Ever competitive, even over something as simple as a sprint against their foster daughter. Despite himself, John remembered it fondly as one of the things that made him fall for her in the first place. And it made him just a bit forlorn, remembering that they decided to ' _ take a break _ ' for the time being.

It really was for the best, though. Zee had her  _ shows _ and John had his...  _ investigations _ . And he had Raven, for the time being, during the weekdays and most weekends, as per their arrangement. No, it wasn't a legally recognized custody battle, seeing as how Raven wasn't exactly part of system that could be traced or tracked. But they'd remained extremely cordial on the matter of raising their daughter, however  _ separately _ it may  _ occasionally _ need to be.

The girl grabbed his hand then, perceptive as always, and shared her own sadness with him. Her eyes turned from that rich navy, deeper and deeper into an indigo that hovered dangerously close to violet. Yes, all sadness and longing, as well as a hint of... was that hope? Rooting for ' _ mum 'n dad _ ' to kiss and make up?

If there had been one thing John learned about Raven's empathy, it was that it was more complicated than mind-reading. Just as feelings were much messier compared to thoughts, Raven's powers often could quickly make a mess of emotions. And no matter how well-intentioned she was, there was much caution that needed to be exercised as they were discovering the exact extent of those powers.

For now though, he flashed a smile for her, as if to say ' _ me too, kid _ ', and turned to the doctor one last time.

"I don't suppose you'll be joining us for this journey?"

Dr. Arkham became flustered at the mere thought, muttering excuses about needing to oversee the patients that were too dangerous to move, and meeting with the remaining guards and staff before the night shift began. The exorcist gave the old doctor a pat on the back and a send off, assuring him that they'd handle the problem one way or another.

They'd soon know for certain just how  _ supernatural _ Arkham Island's problems really were.

"Alright, my little bird, occupied or not. Holding spirits, may they be evil, benign, or of the  _ alcoholic _ persuasion-" Zatanna gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder for that before he continued, "What do we do before entering a house?"

"Knock to let them know we're coming for them," she answered, reaching her free hand up and banging confidently on the door three times with a sure fist.

A good luck charm, of sorts. Some said three knocks represented the Christian holy trinity, and would give the knocker protection when entering a new place. Others thought that it a friendly way to let both the living and the dead know to expect company. And many an urban legend prophesied that it could summon demons or spirits to that locale.

Of course, real magicians, like Zatanna, and meddlers in the dark arts, like Constantine, knew that most of those  _ legends _ were full of shite.

So, to no one's surprise, there was no answer. No, there was no squeaky, creepy door opening. No distinct knocks back. And definitely no spooky warning from a creepy specter to leave and never return.

John was certain the day they got one of  _ those _ would likely be the same day that they finally got a van and adopted a talking animal of some kind. The perfect excuse to go full-time as  _ real _ paranormal investigators, and show meddling paranormal  _ debunkers _ how it's really done.

But for the moment, they'd just have to make do with the lot that was handed to them.

"Looks like we're off to a great start," Zatanna said, opening the doors and leading the way inside to the entrance hall.

There never was a way to tell how the night would go, but John figured that entering the house just as the sun set and the evening settled, was as good a place to start as any. Not many spirits liked to reveal themselves during the day, after all.

For now, he was grateful that no spirits had revealed themselves to his family...

Yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally together inside Arkham Mansion, Zatanna confronts some thoughts of her own as they prepare to confront the demons buried deeper within.

Since spending the last month on the road touring a special Fall Edition of her act, Zatanna was grateful to be spending the week with her family, no matter what that entailed. It had been more than enough time for her to start missing her daughter, though the girl had visited her briefly after one of her shows mid-way through the tour. And it was  _ almost _ enough time to forgive John for the  _ stunt _ he pulled on their last mission together.

_ Almost _ .

That was neither here nor there, though. Zatanna was usually one to stay focused on the present. Especially given the mission and the unknown level of danger they might be putting themselves in.

So for now, the sorceress couldn't help but smile as Raven ran ahead of them in the Main Hall, stars in her eyes as she looked up at the vaulted & decaying ceilings in wonder. The awe in her eyes would seem misplaced to most, considering the sorry state of the building they were now exploring. But knowing Raven, Zatanna understood that she tended to see beauty in what many others may see only decay. The mother followed her daughters gaze, an attempt to see at the very least what Raven saw laying on the surface.

Many of the catwalks were missing their railings, or had gaps that seemed impossible to cross. She was sure that if Raven had been a less sensible child, she would try her hand at finding a way to get to them, just to try her hand at clearing them anyway.

Luckily for them, she was a  _ very _ sensible kid. And at this moment, she took her time to carefully inspect a column that was marked for replacement before she gently touched its peeling paint in curiosity. John made his own way further through the hall as Raven stopped. Zee knew from experience that he was waiting for a  _ presence _ to make itself known. He swung his head slowly back and forth, as if debating whether to turn into the southern corridor that branched to his left, or to continue leading them forward through the hall.

Zatanna focused back on her daughter as the girl began to circle around the column. "Well, blackbird, picking up anything yet?"

The girl shook her head, but not in answer to her question. "You two are the ones who've done this before. What am I supposed to be  _ looking _ for?"

"'s not really looking, but  _ feeling _ ," John corrected, "Violent death always leaves a lasting impression, even if the spirit itself has moved on. It’s the kind of energy that demons or poltergeists will feed off of. Manipulate to entice more violence. Really let your empathy reach for it, Raven, we'll be here if you need us."

With a nod to him, she closed her eyes and pressed her palm firmly against the column, as if she were connecting with the building itself.

Very slowly, Zatanna watched as her dark energy, her soul, gathered around her hand and began to run along the surface of the column. It moved in time with a mantra she had carried with her since long before Zatanna had known her. Twisting around the ceiling, it took the shape of her namesake, before flying off to explore the mansion, skirting along the surfaces and sticking to them like a disobedient shadow.

It was very different from the way Zatanna had been taught astral projection, something she never quite got the hang of, if she was being honest with herself. It required too much concentration, and she often didn't have enough control over where she was going. The sorceress often tried to saved it for emergencies, if at all.

Raven, however, had a natural gift for it. John theorized it was likely because her birth-dimension specialized in it. At least, it  _ had _ specialized in it...

The older sorceress began taking her own time checking the hall, and mulling over their differences. As  _ Homo magi _ , Zee had an extensive history and background with magic; it  _ literally _ was in her veins. She had spent years training with her father and honing her skills, and even then, she was always trying to learn something new, whether it be by perfecting spells or brushing up on folklore and literature. And that was something that Raven and John, though lacking her level of prowess in powers, seemed to have in spades. Funnily enough, they all seemed to balance each other very well.

Or they had, before John had made of fool of her for the  _ last time _ .

She focused once more on trying to read the room.

The flooring had been halfway brought up, exposing a mix of beams and old concrete underneath. The crew had left behind many of their work lights and equipment, most of it sitting unplugged on workbenches, and some scaffolding was left in the middle of being prepped to reach the catwalks. Some unidentifiable items were in sharp pieces, strewn around the hall, making Zatanna wish she had chosen heavier footwear.

It was haphazard and certainly not as welcoming as a hall this grand ought to be. But nails, glass, and broken tile scattered along the floor tended to have that effect.

Despite all outwards appearances, she had yet to sense anything out of the ordinary. It was nearly enough to be tempting to put down her guards, but as experience had taught her one too many times, it was dangerous to even entertain the thought.

She joined John as Raven stood still, her face serene as her soul was off exploring the mansion. She still had a minute or two before her soul would need to return to her body. The sacrifice of a  _ conscious _ projection always came at the cost of limited time, and dire consequences if one were to overstay their welcome  _ outside _ of their body. With more practice, Raven was able to stay a near-full five minutes outside of her body, though it was strain. But with how fast her soul was able to move, she was usually content stopping at three.

"I'm taking her with me," Zatanna blurted suddenly, "After  _ All Saints _ is over, before the European Winter tour. She needs more training in  _ real _ magic, John. Not just all of this-" she waved her hands around her, a grimace on her face, "-this  _ mystical _ ,  _ theoretical _ nonsense."

The exorcist scowled, "We can discuss this  _ later _ , Zee.  _ Together _ . As a  _ family _ -"

"Bullshit. She's only going to want to stay with  _ you,"  _ she spat, "You don't give her enough practice and we both-"

A loud crash from further in the building had both of their heads turning.

"What are you thinking?" Zee asked, fight momentarily forgotten, "Paranoia or paranormal?"

"One way to find out." John picked up a rather large shard of tile that had yet to be cleared. He wound his arm back and chucked it as hard as he could against the wall, breaking it into more pieces.

After he'd brought them up to speed in the Entrance Hall, Zatanna figured this was his way of testing what Jeremiah had told him about the so-called  _ spirits _ of the mansion. Breaking what  _ they _ might still consider to be  _ their _ property, was certainly one way to know if what the doctor had been told was true. Though, Zatanna  _ really _ wished that John wouldn't be so brash when testing these sorts of things.

It was another reason she had for taking a more active role in their daughter's training.

From down the hall, Raven let out a gasp. The duo turned towards her, watching her fall onto her back, as if she had been pushed by a playground bully.

"It doesn't  _ like _ that," she said, turning to face them with a dark scowl.

"I'd fancy a guess that not everyone would," John turned his back again to face the choice before them, nonplussed by her spill. Though this may have been their daughter's first ' _ house call _ ', it was far from her first experience with malevolent spirits. Zatanna supposed a  _ little _ push back built character, and besides that, Raven was back up and on her feet in seconds. No harm done.

"The bedrooms are offices now," she explained as she brushed herself off, "And they're further down. There's a lot of...  _ energy _ in them. That way," Raven pointed to the southern corridor that had John's attention from earlier, "leads to the library. But its completely empty now. Of books and... anything else, really."

"It's decided then. Care to lead the way?" John gestured grandly for the girl to take point.

At the suggestion, she broke into a smile and began running down the hall, her parental figures keeping up at a more leisurely pace behind her. John began to loosen his tie, and Zatanna knew he was getting lost in thought.

It had been three months or so since she last joined him on one of his investigations, and even longer since she had some  _ quality _ training time with their daughter. The girl was an incredibly fast learner. They breezed through lesson after lesson at a pace that would be astonishing for a  _ human _ child, even one that would have had the same kind of magical aptitude Zatanna had at that age. And even given Raven's half-demonic origins, it was more than a little jarring at times.

Still, the girl's eagerness to learn  _ everything _ they had to teach her was something Zatanna did not take for granted. Zee, herself, remembered more than one ill-gotten lesson when her father failed to keep her attention, and she was ever grateful that Raven was not the kind of child she had been. Much more patient, and much more cautious.

But a child still, in many other respects.

They wandered through a few more halls and hallways, up varying staircases, ever deeper into the mansion. Finally catching up to a spot where Raven had called them ' _ slowpokes _ ' from, the duo found themselves at the bottom of a narrow flight of stairs. The girl had stopped midway up, one hand on the railing, her feet straddling a step as if she had been taking them two at a time.

It was odd, to say the least, and Zatanna called her name in concern.

Raven slowly started to sink from where she was standing. She caught herself, luckily,  _ sitting _ on the step instead of  _ falling _ onto it, but her face was pale. Blue eyes had turned a brilliant crimson and they were losing focus. One of her sneakers had flashed to life, its light-up stars flickering intermittently.

And that was when Zee felt the temperature drop in the passageway, the taste of something metallic in the air. Though they couldn't be sure  _ what _ it was, _ something _ was definitely happening.

And it certainly wasn't going to be pretty.

"I.. It wasn't this bad... before. Why is it..." Tears began forming in the girl's eyes as she curled deeper into herself.

Their reaction was instantaneous, bolting to where she was sitting in the stairwell. Zatanna's first instinct, to swallow her daughter up in a hug, one which the girl ever so slowly returned. Like the mother she had become for Raven, Zee began trying to project every sense of comfort that she could for her. Her arms were like a vice around the girl's body, as if trying to physically shield her from the pain. It broke her heart to see the girl in such a state, but there was, unfortunately, always another implication to it.

Because if Raven tried to use any of her powers now, under the influence of such negative emotions, the results could range from mildly harmful to downright catastrophic. They had been lucky the first couple of times something similar had happened, usually taking place at home or otherwise familiar territory. But with unknown forces surrounding them?

Zee shoved the thought aside as she held Raven tighter. No, she  _ wasn't _ going to let that happen.

"Why does it- it hurt- why am I-" the girl sobbed, unable to explain, but wanting to form the words. Zatanna could feel her reigning in the negativity, just barely stopping herself from projecting it out.

As if she was a conduit for  _ something's _ emotional turmoil around them, and trying her damnedest to keep it from spilling over the rest of them. Too much to bear for one so young.

"This was a bad idea, John." Zatanna brought her daughter fully into her lap as the exorcist knelt down with them. He placed one of his own hands on Raven's back, running it in circles in an attempt to help soothe her.

"Raven, it's going to be okay. It's the house, remember? It's those who came before."

"We shouldn't have let her open herself up to them like this. I  _ told _ you, she isn't ready."

_ Of course _ it had been terrible idea. An empath, a  _ child, _ in a place that harbored such a violent history? And if these spirits, or demons, or  _ whatever the hell they could be facing _ , had no intention of showing themselves and facing them directly, what hope would they have if it took advantage of their daughter's inexperience?

Raven sniffed. "No, I'm- I'm fine. I can-" She took a second more to compose herself. "I can... No,  _ I can do it! _ " With that shout, her shoe flickered off, the temperature returning to it’s normal light chill around them. And above all else, Zatanna could feel her resolve returning.

_ Whatever _ it was that had overwhelmed her, had moved on.

Or had Raven been able to push it out? Zatanna couldn't quite tell.

"Are you sure, luv?" Her father moved his hand to her shoulder, eyebrows creasing in concern. "We're not moving unless you're  _ absolutely _ sure."

"Positive," she sniffed, wiping away the last of her tears on her sleeve. Her eyes had evened back into their normal hue, and Zatanna sighed with relief at the sight of them. She was stable and centered once again.

With a determined look, the young empath picked herself up, still holding fast to Zee's hand. She reached for John's without hesitation and began leading them once more up the flight of stairs in relative silence. Shoes squeaked determinedly once more with heavy footsteps following close behind, head held high as they neared the end of the stairwell.

Zatanna knew Raven's pride wouldn't admit it, but she wanted their strength and stability as they approached the room ahead of them. Something had changed and charged the atmosphere around them, to the point that Zatanna was certain even Constantine must have picked up on it.

She felt the girl's small hand squeeze her own even tighter as they stood in the entranceway, feeling a  _ presence _ in the room before them now. Very likely, the same one that tried to overwhelm her just moments before.

"This is it," she whispered.

Like the halls behind them, this room was also littered with debris and more than a few missed files. There were many unmistakable blood stains on the hardwood flooring, and Zatanna sniffed in distaste at the distinct  _ musk _ that was in the air. Dust and mildew, but also an odd  _ burning _ smell that she couldn’t quite place. Windows had either been boarded over or bricked up, leaving very little opportunity for light to pour in from the outside. Only a single work lamp had been left on, and while sitting on the floor, it casted distinct and strong silhouettes along the walls. The air was still, and Zatanna forced herself to let go of a breath she'd been holding for the better part of a minute.

"We would like to address the  _ entity _ , or  _ entities _ , that inhabit this dwelling," John called, his voice strong, if slightly casual, as it faintly echoed in the space before them. "We understand that there have been some...  _ changes _ that you're none too pleased with. Perhaps we can help."

Hearing his voice, Zatanna could feel how reassured Raven felt. She let go of both of their hands and wandered further past the doorway, drawn almost magnetically to a particular part of the room. They each took it as a cue to enter with caution.

There was a pit forming in the magician's stomach, that sinking feeling of despair in one's gut, that warned when something bad was going to happen. She began listening carefully to it, edging closer to where Raven was standing, the girl staring at one of the larger stains on the floor.

"This is gonna sound weird but," she turned to them, and pointed at the stain at her feet. "This is where it happened. Where the Arkhams passed. I know it! It was right-"

Like in the hall before, Raven was knocked off her feet by whatever  _ presence _ was in the room with them, this time earning some scrapes on her hands as she tried to break her fall. These spirits didn't seem to want to fully reveal themselves yet, but those strong shadows began to flicker and move along the walls. Disobedient, almost playful, had it not been for the sharp images they began to project.

It was a clear indication of malevolence on their part. As if pushing and shoving the youngest of their party present wasn't evidence enough for that.

"Hey! That's really rude, you know!" she yelled as Zatanna rushed over to her. The scrapes on her hands were already closing themselves up, but Zee took them into her own for inspection regardless.

_ “I'll show you rude _ ,” the  _ something _ whispered, barely audible. The sorceress nearly thought she'd imagined it, until-

It flung the family apart.

The force was so great, and so sudden. All Zatanna saw, was her daughter and her partner being slammed against opposite walls. She felt her own head hit against something, hard.

Another second passed. Vision beginning to blur.

Flashes of light and yelling. Incantations. Shouting.

She could feel herself slipping. Eyes fluttering shut.

Screaming. Screaming.  _ Screaming _ .

A part of her wanting,  _ needing _ to stay.  _ Fighting _ to stay  _ present _ .

Then, only blackness followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments & kudos appreciated. see you all on monday with ch 4!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven finds a new friend and unexpected ally.

It was the smell that clued her into the fact that she wasn't in the mansion any more. The distinct leather of a water hose and pollen that absolutely saturated the air, it made Raven's eyes water a bit as she opened them. Rubbing at them to reduced the irritation, she took stock of her surroundings.

Just as she suspected, the Botanical Gardens.

She knew it'd be...  _ green _ , but she hadn't expected it to be quite so  _ colorful _ . Flowers of every kind, many she didn't recognize, and teeming with exotic plants along the ground and climbing the walls. Even a small sign to indicate a vegetable garden further down from where she had woken up. All of the plants were perfectly labeled and accounted for.

It was the kind of place where she would've liked to bring in a good book and maybe some fresh lemonade, to spend the afternoon engrossed in some mythical tale or an action-adventure novel.

But right now, the mission was still at the forefront of her mind, which was racing a mile a minute. She recalled how they had just been down a member, remembering how Zatanna was knocked out cold after that first blast, when she felt a pang in her chest.

And she realized that John and Zee were  _ nowhere _ to be seen.

But there  _ was _ one other person in the room with her.

"Good, you're awake."

Her hair was a startling, intense shade of red, and her complexion was surprisingly rosy compared to what Raven recalled a certain (lying)  _ boy wonder _ telling her. She sat there in shock a moment longer as she fully registered that  _ Poison Ivy _ was standing nearby. Dressed in her Arkham jumpsuit, her civilian identity neatly printed on the shirt, as if it wasn't obvious who was  _ really _ in it, she looked over the girl with an air of disinterest.

"You're... not green," Raven observed, before realizing the profoundly  _ dumb _ thing she had said  _ out-loud _ , and shook her head at herself. "I mean you're not-" She tried correcting before Ivy cut her off.

"Not what you expected? It happens, darling." She turned away from the girl, tending to the plants as they reacted to her presence, slowing latching onto and detaching from her hands as if greeting her. She made quick work of watering some and removing weeds from others, careful to transplant those to other locations.

"If we're being honest. I wasn't expecting anyone to come visit me until the renovations reached the gardens, much less that an unconscious  _ kid _ would  _ drop _ in."

"They're... letting you stay in the gardens?" The girl couldn't help but to wrinkle her nose in confusion. "By yourself?"

"It's a compromise until I can find a way to bust out, or until they let me out for _good_ _behavior_. They let me look after the plants, I won't cause them extra trouble. And believe me," she snapped her fingers and vines tighten all around Ravens body. A trap. " _I can be a lot of trouble."_

Raven felt her heart race. Demons and ghosts and, hell, even  _ other magic users _ were one thing. They were familiar territory. She never faced a villain that relied on the laws that governed the physical world. At least not by herself.

She was out of her element, that much was certain.

And while she wanted to hold desperately to the hope that she could fight the woman in front of her, Raven wasn't so sure as she tried a variation of one of the first spells Zatanna had taught her.

"SENIV DNIBNU!" she yelled, drawing on her power as she  _ commanded _ them.

_ Force _ and  _ intent _ , just like Zee taught her. A spell was never as much in the  _ words _ as the  _ feeling _ and  _ force of will _ . And if there was something that Raven had in spades, it was an unyielding will.

But nothing happened.

"Hmm, I thought so. You're that  _ Little Zatanna _ , we've been hearing so much about."

Okay, nothing to freak out over completely yet! Raven still felt relatively normal, if a bit panicked. 

But what else was there to feel in a situation like this? She struggled against the vines uselessly, but remembered Batgirl's advice from the last sticky situation they had gotten in together:  _ keep them talking _ .

"Not quite," Raven countered, continuing to test the vines for any signs of giving, "Mom and Dad still have me on training wheels, as you can see."

"Mmm-hmm," Ivy hummed noncommittally, focusing back on her plants. The vines only seemed to hold tighter as she wandered around. Still, nothing to really worry about... yet.

"Look, we were only here for the _stupid_ _ghosts_ in the mansion! Mom 'n Dad are probably already looking for me, and- and you said you wanted to get out for good behavior, right?" Raven knew it might be a long shot if Ivy was really thinking-

"Or, I can use you as a nicely wrapped  _ bargaining chip _ to walk right out of the gate," Ivy smiled. She hadn’t even bothered pausing in her work, and continued right along as if nothing were amiss.

Okay,  _ now _ was the time to panic.

' _ Crap. No. No. What if she keeps you. What if she never lets you go. She'll hold you forever, or she'll turn you over to someone worse or she'll- she'll- _ ' her thoughts ran wild as the worst-case scenario played over and over. A new, worsening vision dancing with each passing second.

Raven felt her heart seize in her chest for a moment. Everything around her was closing in, even tighter than the vines that held her. Or maybe it was the vines that were helping the feeling along.

She was hyperventilating, shaking.

She couldn't get any thought other than never seeing John and Zatanna out of her head.

_ There was nothing else _ . She  _ wasn't _ getting out of this one.

But then, something in Ivy's demeanor changed. The botanist’s breath caught, movement slowing until she finally turned back to face the prey she caught. Her smirk had dropped into concern and recognition at the look on the girl’s face.

"Oh,  _ shit _ ," she snapped her fingers again, allowing the vines to drop the girl gently to the ground. "Hey kid, stay with me. I wasn't really- shit. Um. Look, I'll help you find your parents." She scrambled to pick up some lavender, crushing it in her hands before blowing it around them, allowing it to catch on some unseen breeze.

"Fuck, Harley's really gotten to me," she cursed under her breath, running a hand nervously through her hair. She placed both her hands carefully on the girls shoulders to get her attention.

"Okay, um, I want you to breathe with me, okay kid?” she said, lifting up the girl’s chin until she had eye contact. She seemed taken aback for a moment, but pressed on. Some small part of Raven knew her eyes must have changed once more, to reflect her state of mind. “Can you do that?" she asked, trying to appear nonplussed.

Raven nodded, and they started a breathing exercise. She focused on Ivy's voice and the strong lavender scent she had blown into the air around them. It clung to their skin like a blanket and she remembered for the first, in a very long time, that it was the same scent that once wafted through many of the temples of Azarath.

A home that seemed more of a  _ distant memory _ than the place she had been raised for the better part of her life.

Not that she tended to dwell too much on it anyways. She had better, happier memories now.

She had the sneaking suspicion that this particular experience one  _ wasn't _ going to be one of them.

When Ivy finally deemed the girl finally calm enough, she began apologizing. "Harley gets a lot of panic attacks.,” she explained, “Especially after...  _ Look _ , I'm not really that  _ bad _ of a person, okay? I'm trying-"

"Trying to turn over a new leaf?" Raven asked.

Ivy stared for a moment before Raven started chuckling at her own joke. Eventually, the botanist joined in as they both burst into full roars of laughter. It took them a moment to compose themselves, and Raven noticed that as soon as she let go of the girl's shoulders, Ivy was able to stop herself immediately.

' _ Projecting. That's right. Always gotta work on  _ not _ projecting. _ '

It was so easy, though, to want others to feel the happiness she felt. It couldn't be so bad spreading that joy, and it was certainly better than feeling something  _ bad _ , right?

Ivy let out one last, small chuckle. "You're not too bad, kid. What's your name, anyway?"

The girl paused. It was always a  _ loaded _ question. On one hand, names held a certain power that most took too much for granted. And on the other, both her parents were famous both in and out of the same magical community that might look to take  _ advantage _ of that power. Sure, they kept enough people on their toes about their daughter's true name to keep her  _ safe enough _ . But at the end of it... Raven had to wonder if it  _ really _ even mattered.

So, as she was often prone to do, she chose the truth.

"Raven," she said, “You can call me Raven.”

Ivy nodded absentmindedly at her answer. "Alright, Raven. Nice to meet you. Now, did you have a place where you were going to meet your parents? Hell, maybe a number we can call?"

"No, uh…” the girl shook her head, still a bit foggy as she felt the calm spread through her. “Dad doesn't really  _ do _ phones. And Mom usually forgets she even has one... But I think if we just let them know  _ where _ I am somehow-"

"Like a kid lost in the mall, right?" Ivy sighed. Raven could sense a bit of agitation and conflict in her as she walked over to one of the benches, sinking into it, though it looked far from comfortable.

"I can do it myself,” Raven offered, “It's okay-"

"Whoa there! You're, what?  _ Seven _ ? You  _ can't _ go out there  _ alone _ ."

"I'm  _ nine. _ " Raven crossed her arms stubbornly as she straightened her back, trying to stand a bit taller. "And I know enough to make it out there by myself. I'll be just  _ fine _ without you."

"Not with the rest of the  _ rogues _ loose, you won't."

The girl narrowed her eyes at the villain-botanist. "You're lying." There would be one way to know for sure soon enough...

"It happened just when you dropped in,” Ivy sighed, “Alarms shut off before you woke up. And I'll tell you right now, it wasn't the  _ Warden's _ voice that announced the  _ all-clear _ over the speakers."

She could practically see the self-satisfied superiority the woman held over her now. Ivy wasn't lying. And that left only one thing for Raven to fully accept.

Her fingers sparked to life once again as she finally recognized the feeling she had been trying to keep away: Fear. It was front and center in her, and there was no denying it. Maybe it was because she felt relatively safe around Ivy now, compared to how she felt just moments ago, that she let herself recognize it, and own up to it.

It didn't mean she liked it, of course, but it was better to feel  _ some _ control again over herself and her powers.

There was no telling how much control she'd have with them  _ just now _ returning, though. Raven wondered for a moment if she could simply teleport herself out the building and start the search on her own anyway. But she was oh-so-curious about what Ivy meant, and from the sound of her voice, she  _ must _ know more than she was letting on.

"Well, who was it, then?" she asked as her curiosity got the better of her, just enough to push past her feelings, "Who's even left on the island? Isn't the Joker-"

"Joker, Tetch, and Fries were all on the list to stay during renovations from what I've overheard. Fortunately for us, they broke out long before this mess," Ivy explained as Raven moved to join her on the bench she sat upon. "If I had to guess, it was Eddie Nygma gracing us with his wit and charm over the intercoms. Though it's a little hard to hear because most of the damn speakers here are so water-damaged. But if they kept Eddie, it means they  _ definitely _ would've kept Harley here, and Crane as well."

She took note of Raven's raised eyebrow, taking it correctly for lack of recognition of the names. 

As much time as she usually spent in Gotham with either John  _ or _ Zatanna, they never paid much attention to the chaos that seemed to miraculously avoid them when they were in town. Raven, like most children her age, usually recognized heroes and villains by their super-names. Ivy quickly cleared up her confusion with the names she  _ would _ recognize. "Mad Hatter and Mister Freeze are out. Riddler's in control, which means Scarecrow's  _ probably _ loose along with Harley. And who knows, maybe some others, too."

The girl nodded thoughtfully for a moment, thinking over the situation before her.

This entire time she had been with Ivy, she had been so focused on her perceived, immediate threat. Now, even though she knew Ivy would have banished anyone else present in the gardens, Raven could've sworn she felt  _ someone _ or  _ something _ else just at her periphery. It was familiar, like the presence she had felt when she was exploring the house. She knew that ghosts and demons usually claimed small, centered territory, but she thought the Island might've been big enough to house  _ more _ than one such presence. It had at least a hundred years to collect a lot of suffering energy, after all.

And just as soon as she had started to recognize it, she couldn't feel it anymore. Raven decided then and there, it was better to take her chances outside of the garden  _ with _ Ivy's help rather than without it. There was no real use to waiting around, and it was very likely John and Zatanna had been banished from the mansion just like she had been. At least, she was fairly certain that's what had happened. Her memory was still a bit fuzzy on  _ that _ end.

Grabbing the villainess' hand, Raven pulled her up off the bench with much too much strength for a  _ nine year old.  _ Not that she'd ever  _ really _ acknowledged her sometimes-scary strength, it was just another part of her, like magic, or her love of reading.

"Well then, I guess I'm going to need your help, after all!" she practically sang as she pulled Ivy along.

She knew that the  _ last _ place she'd want to go at the moment would be the mansion, and she remembered Dr. Arkham's warning about the  _ West end _ of the island. That only left the Northern entrance and Intensive Treatment.

She may have gotten a bad feeling from it before, but she knew she needed to push through it. She’d have to risk an unpleasant supernatural run-in if it meant being reunited with her parents. And maybe with Ivy helping, it would be enough.

Sure, she didn’t have an  _ exact _ plan for finding her mom and dad past  _ that, _ at the moment, but that was half the fun of these kinds of team-ups... right?

But as Ivy guided her out of the Gardens, and took natural charge of where and how they’d best be able to contact her parents, Raven felt it again. That  _ presence _ pushed intermittently at her the limits of her empathy, keeping just out of touch as to remain unfamiliar.

Of one thing, she was beginning to be certain, however. It was very similar to one of the entities she’d felt in the mansion. In fact, she’d be willing to guess that it was the very same one that had overwhelmed her on the staircase, when she had been least expecting it.

And another thing she was beginning to suspect: the entity on the staircase was not nearly as malevolent as the entity in the bedroom had been. In fact, she was fairly sure that they were two separate beings. But it was all much too soon to tell.

She balled her hands into fists, keeping them stuffed in her jacket pockets as they exited the gardens. The walk to Intensive was going to be short, but she knew the night was only just beginning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constantine has a little help escaping from the medical facility.

He knew he must not have said the right incantation when he woke to find himself strapped to a bed. Likely still somewhere on Arkham Island, due to the state of the room he found himself in. But as to specifics other than that, it was anyone's guess.

There was a faint glow from a hall light at the end of the room, and another from a balcony overlooking the space he occupied. Just enough to show how barren it was, save for some decaying equipment that John had to guess had been on its last leg. Just like in the mansion, most of the tiled flooring had been brought up, and the paint was peeling away on the walls and ceiling. John tested the slack on his restraints once more as he finished observing the room.

That's when he realized he wasn't so much on a bed, as an operating table.

A surgery wing, was it? Must be in the medical facility.

He began mulling over his options as a figure darkened the doorway. If there was going to be any opportunity to get help, John was sure this would be it.

"Mind giving us a hand here, mate? Got a lot of things to do that don't involve being tied up tonight-"

The figure flipped the light switch then, revealing a doctor with a clipboard in hand.

Or so John initially thought, before taking a closer look and realizing once more just how wrong he truly was. It seemed the exorcist's intuition was a tad more faulty than usual.

Because while he certainly had the  _ credentials _ and  _ uniform _ of a doctor, this man was no longer legally qualified to carry any sort of practice.

The  _ Scarecrow _ had gotten loose, and was looking to use John as a new test subject.

"Aw, bullocks, we've really gone and done it now, haven't we?"

Crane's pen scratched something onto the papers he had in hand, his mask firmly in place, making his expression unreadable. Constantine wondered briefly just  _ how _ the Scarecrow had gotten out of his cell, and why it was really all that necessary for him to  _ stay _ . Let alone how John, himself, had gotten here in the this predicament in the first-

No wait.

That was his own damn fault, _ wasn't it _ ?

He remembered how the panic hadn't quite set in when Zee had been down for the count. His daughter was muttering a few words of protection, bringing up her defenses too late as the  _ entity _ brought flying debris down on her. And he had been fighting back as best he could from across the room, debating between using latin or aramaic spells. He was in the middle of taking out some holy water he always kept in a flask, just for emergencies like this one.

And then the damned thing had sent Zee and Raven off to  _ God-knows-where,  _ and turned complete focus on hurling every remaining object in the room at him.

Unfortunately, John was never much the athlete. It hadn't taken long for the entity to trip him up and send him away.

His attention turned back to the danger at hand, however,  as Crane began making his observations aloud. These rogues certainly had a flair for the dramatic, didn't they?

"Patient historically known for using humor as a defense mechanism. Both for his fear, and against those who he believes would cause him harm."

Having never had the pleasure of meeting the villain personally, the demonologist had to wonder how Scarecrow had him pegged so easily. Then again, the Hellblazer was known all too well throughout the magic community. And with more than a few members intersecting with the world of costumed heroes and villains, would it truly be such a surprise to hear that he had made an impression there as well? He had certainly spent more than enough time in Gotham these past few years to have drawn such attention.

Even if he had been oh-so-careful to avoid too many team-ups with Zee's crowd, there had been one too many close calls. When the fate of the world hung in the balance and you've got to set the right example for your kid, how do you say no to such a thing? 

John simply couldn't, no matter how much he may have wanted to.

"It's not so much a mechanism as a  _ suit of armor _ ," John clarified, continuing to struggle against the restraints for any sign of give. "You learn to grow one after seeing half the shite I have,  _ mate _ ."

Crane ignored him, tightening the straps around his ankles to be sure they stayed secured. And just as John was about to make another smart remark, the man dropped to the ground with a harsh  _ thud _ .

But he suddenly wasn't so sure if he was glad to see who his rescuer was.

" _ Deus ex hammer _ ," Harley Quinn smiled at him as she hefted a construction worker's mallet onto her shoulder, "I told Crane the plan was  _ escape _ , not  _ revenge _ . Do they  _ ever _ listen?"

She leaned over to undo a strap holding one of John's hands hostage, and promptly spun around to leave. John noticed that she was still in her jumpsuit, although she did sport a stethoscope around her neck for  _ some _ reason. The breakout must have been very recent.

"Don't suppose you'll fill me in on what's happened here, luv? I believe I at least owe you a drink for getting me out of this tough spot."

"'Suppose you would." Her hand was on the door handle, but she paused, a little lost in thought.

"Ya brought a kid here, didn't ya?" she asked. John thought she sounded almost wistful.

He recalled one of the few times they had attended a Wayne Gala together as a family, and one of the very few times that both he  _ and _ Zatanna failed to keep an eye on their favorite little gremlin. How Harley had committed some  _ 'light kidnapping _ ', with the intended target being Bruce Wayne's ward, and had snapped Raven by mistake.

Which was somewhat understandable. Black-haired, blue-eyed children tended to look fairly similar to one another. Especially when you're not quite in the right frame of mind in the first place.

It turned out better that way for Raven, when everything was said and done. They must have worked through  _ something _ , because Zatanna had received Harley's accolades for parenting when she returned the girl to their home after a long night of “adventure therapy”, as the former psychiatrist had called it. She also delivered a stern warning to the mystic that ' _ if something happens to this one _ ' she would find out, and she'd make whoever responsible pay.  _ Dearly _ .

She never had the pleasure of meeting John,  _ obviously _ .

But did she  _ know _ that it was the same girl from all that time ago? Perhaps the doctors or staff had been discussing their arrival at the Asylum, and she had overheard? Or maybe those rumors about the clown's freaky  _ sixth sense _ held some water after all?

These questions weren't of much concern to John, though. Not at the moment.

"My daughter," he confirmed as he continued struggling with the strap on his other wrist, "Thought it'd be good for her, joining Mum 'n Dad on this...  _ house call _ of ours."

"Y'know... the  _ others _ usually don't know where to draw a line... Mine's usually before the five foot mark." She turned back to face him, throwing the mallet and stethoscope away as if in a show of good faith, and waited for him at the doorway. "Let's go make sure she's okay."

As he undid the last strap on this ankle, John debated just how  _ bad _ of an idea this kind of team-up would be. He had heard about Quinn's unfortunate origins that began in this very same asylum, but knew he'd be hard-pressed to find anyone more qualified to help him find his girls. There was no doubt in his mind that Harley would know the best places to start searching, and it probably wouldn't take much to get her talking about why both she and Scarecrow were out of their cells.

The choice seemed a little too obvious, really.

After making sure Crane was locked in Surgery with no escape route, just as John suspected, Harley was eager to explain what had transpired between their arrival to the Island and his untimely wake-up in Medical.

Crane and Nygma had been planning this break-out since they had gotten news of the renovations. But what it really came down to was  _ sheer, dumb luck _ , as the doors to each of their holding cells in the medical wing had  _ mysteriously _ been unlocked.

"One at a time! Right down the row! Even for the cells that were already empty! Weirdest thing..."

It didn't stop Nygma from following through with their original plan by sneaking into the base of operations in Intensive Treatment, or Crane from gaining access to the last of his toxin that was being kept in Medical, and using it judiciously on the remaining staff in the building. Harley had simply been happy at first to be rounding up doctors and guards alike, giving them her own oh-so-clever one-liners about the patients running the asylum.

"It was s'posed to be a  _ joke _ ,” Quinn explained, their footfalls heavy on the linoleum floor as they neared the Sanatorium, “And then there was the  _ yelling _ and the  _ screaming _ ! I mean, I know he's called  _ Scarecrow _ but-"

"Constantine, thank God!" An all too familiar voice called from down the hall, one that John would recognize in a sea of voices.

Zatanna, in her stage uniform now, was trapped inside a sheer glass cell, banging her fists impatiently on the walls to get his attention.

"You have to let me out of here!"

"Zee!" He began to run to her, but Harley caught his arm before he could get too far. "Are you insane? I have to get her out!"

"I'm _not_ gonna take that as a joke and say _yes_. Yes, I am insane. But _that_ -” she pointed in Zatanna's direction, swinging her whole arm for emphasis, "-isn't who you think it is."

"What do you mean, it's-" John turned back only to find a sharply dressed Joker in her place. Was he going absolutely  _ mental _ ? The clown was on the run, and Zee had  _ definitely _ been standing there just a moment ago.

"Oh, Harley, my darling. Not quite as dumb as they say you are!" He began to laugh as his face grotesquely melted away, shifting until the  _ man _ became more of a  _ mass _ . " _ Now let me out! _ " he growled.

"Clayface.  _ Not _ invited to our little break-out. Mostly ‘cause of stuff like this!" She pointedly yelled the last part in his direction, sticking her tongue out as she led John away. "Scout's honor, there's only Red- er,  _ Ivy _ left in the Gardens, far as I remember. And I think she's gonna want us to steer clear. She's got a good shot at gettin' out for good behavior."

As they continued making their way through the building, John was quickly becoming all too nostalgic for the peace and quiet that his family often afforded him. Harley simply wasn't one for long, drawn-out silences.

"So, what were ya doing here in the asylum anyways?" Harley finally probed after  _ another _ soliloquy about what she  _ really _ thought about her fellow rogues.

The question caught John off guard for a moment, which Harley took for confusion as she brought more context for her sudden curiosity.

"I heard a couple of doc's talking 'bout the mansion bein' haunted. That the Director hired a detective an' a circus act with a kid between the two'a them. Figures that it'd be you 'n Z’anna with Ray-Ray in tow," she paused for a brief second, giving John a pointed glare, "And I thought  _ B-man _ had the corner market for  _ child endangerment _ ."

John let out a short, bitter laugh. "Trust me, luv, between the three of us,  _ I'm _ usually the one most in danger."

Bringing Harley up to speed on his own adventure thus far certainly helped to pass the time. It wasn't long before they were safely out of the building, with an excellent view of the fully demolished Penitentiary directly in front of them. Gotham City lay glittering beyond the harbor to their left, and the rest of the island was blockaded by the hillside that took up the island's center to their right. With only two gates, leading either to the North entrance or East end of the island, John wondered how such  _ flawless _ security  _ ever _ failed to keep Gotham's rogues in custody.

"Only so many places that Zee and Rae could've gone, then," John mused.

"And from what you told me, I'd say you can cross an entire mansion off the list," Harley reminded him. She braced her hands casually around the back of neck, letting her elbows stick up in the air, the epitome of nonchalance.

"And since  _ you've _ already combed every inch of Medical..."

"Intensive Treatment?" Harley suggested.

As soon as the words left her mouth, what remained of the PA system chimed to life, and a voice faintly echoed around them.

"Ahem, would a, uh,  _ John Constantine _ and  _ Zatanna Zatara _ please make their way to  _ Intensive Treatment _ ? I have your kid-" Another, quieter voice seemed to scold the first one for a second, and John gave Harley a quizzical look. She only shrugged her shoulders, giving a hum that very distinctly sounded like  _ 'I don't know' _ , as the two voices argued lowly for a second.

"Oh for-! Let me just-! Fine! John, Zatanna, come pick up your kid, _please_? She's perfectly fine, just.. _annoyingly_ _worried_. _Intensive Treatment_. Once again, _Constantine_ and _Zatanna_ to _Intensive Treatment-_ " She repeated a few variations of the phrase as Harley piped up.

"Huh, didn't think there'd be much that would get  _ Red _ outta the gardens. That Ray's got moxie, I'll give her that!"

"Oh, trust me, luv, you don't know the half of it." John fished a pack of cigs from his coat, lighting one as they made their way down the path.

"She tell you about this one trip we took her on, to the tourist spots all over San Francisco?" And try as he might, John was as prone as any father would be, wanting to share the pride he held for his daughter. Sharing a few of their more notable exploits was yet again the easiest way to pass the time as they walked leisurely towards the gate. With Raven relatively safe for now, John was certain they'd find Zatanna in due time.

Although it was already shaping up to be a much longer night than he had intended, with only a handful of brushes with death, it must've meant they'd have a chance to pull this mission off one way or another.

' _ And maybe keep the Batman on his toes for the next few months as well _ ,' John thought as Harley laughed at his anecdote and Ivy's voice stopped droning over ancient speakers. ' _ One good turn deserves another _ .' None of the self-proclaimed  _ Sirens _ had ever struck John as being purely evil anyways. What would really be the harm in letting them make a quiet escape when this mess was cleared up?

The moon peeked behind silver clouds, an eyeless smile rising in an inky sky. Its light did little to help illuminate the path, but Constantine took comfort in its appearance. They’d have things sorted well before the night was through.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zatanna does some sleuthing.

She awoke to the sound of a voice, distorted and echoing. With her head throbbing like the aftermath of a bad hangover, Zatanna knew she would have to remind John to keep an eye on her when they made it out of this mess. It would be a shame if the Mistress of Magic were felled by something as easily treatable as a concussion.

Or was it...  _ if _ they made it out of this mess?

No, no.  _ When _ . They had Raven to think about. Sordid pessimism was  _ John's _ thing, not hers.

Speaking of the two, they were nowhere to be seen. The sorceress found herself completely alone in the hallway, and certainly confused by her surroundings.

This must have been a part of Arkham she hadn't yet seen.

She tried to focus once more on the voice first, the way it seemed to bob and flow. It had a definite showman's flair to it. And just as suddenly as she was beginning to recognize it, it stopped.

Well, that was  _ one _ clue that was out of reach now.

What about her environment, then? She could plainly see two sets of doors, like the openings for a pair of elevators, and on her other side another set of swinging doors, which were typical fare for hospitals of all kinds. The windows set in them showed dully lit hallways. Not somewhere she'd want to venture to just yet. And finally in the center of the room was a receptionist's desk, everything cleared off of it except a phone line.

Zee reached for it, not seeing that it's screen, which should have been lit with preprogrammed numbers, was dark. The line was completely silent, dead.

This would explain why the voice from before sounded so far away, systems must have shut down for this section of the hall. Emergency lights were the only thing keeping it lit, an eerie glow along the walls tinting the room in gentle blue.

With limited options and a headache making it's home front and center in her head, Zatanna forced herself to summon a wand and made quick work of the elevators. She soon discovered one had been removed completely from the elevator shaft and the other's cables had been cut, leaving a mess a few levels down from her position. Judging from how narrow the space seemed to get as she looked up through it, and with how she was feeling at the moment, Zatanna wasn't so sure she'd have enough energy to fly to cover such a distance.

Going up was certainly out of the question. But going down wasn't looking all that pleasant either.

There was one benefit, though, that she could remember to choosing that route instead: the Batcave.

Not the conventional one, of course, but a different one. One that took advantage of Arkham Islands numerous cave systems. One that Bruce had warned them was mostly unfinished, at least by his standards, and was difficult to reach by many conventional methods. He had been less than welcoming with letting them know most of those methods, but nonetheless offered the cave as a rendezvous point of last resort. And if Zee was certain of anything, it was that no matter the building she was in, her best bet was to continue making her way  _ down _ if she wanted a way  _ out _ .

" _ Etativel _ !"

She floated down into the space below, avoiding the gnarled remains of the less fortunate twin elevator. Other than the mess caused by the felled contraption, the space had been gutted, leaving an empty room with two doors that resembled hatches to submarines more so than like anything that belonged in a so-called _ mental health _ facility.

The door on the left was neatly labeled 'Maintenance'. The right had a graffitied 'Croc's Lair' in crude style, decorated with cross-bones directly below. Zatanna frowned at the display, waving her wand and free hand in its direction. " _ Esare taht _ ," she commanded, and the graffiti faded back into brick and metal.

Unnecessary and cruel, she'd make a note to follow up and investigate it when they were finished.

For now, she forged ahead into the catacombs, hoping for a moment that Arkham's sewer systems were at least marginally better than most of Gotham's. The tide of the sewage was lower than usual, keeping the path along the edges of the system clear. There were still a few gaps to cross to get to the other end of the tunnel, but the sight had Zatanna sighing with relief.

" _ REPUS PMUJ _ !" she practically laughed while shouting the spell. No reason  _ not _ to have a bit of fun, after all.

Landing lightly on her feet, she commanded yet another door to open for her, vaguely recalling Batman's instructions on how to reach his 'cave away from the cave'.

The sewers of Arkham Island were much less a Labyrinth and more like an unfamiliar subway. Certainly confusing for a first time visitor, but not if they followed the signs. They were faded from years of disuse, but not illegible. No, it was not impossible to navigate, but Zee kept a sharp eye out as she walked deeper into the system.

That unsettling feeling of being watched hadn't left after she had exited the room near the elevator shaft.

...

Pressing the spacebar on the keyboard, Zee prayed for a moment that Batman's equipment was more user friendly than it appeared. She’d braved the tight spaces and precarious walkways to venture this far. It’d be a shame for all that effort to go to waste.

She was met with a very idle and unassuming desktop image of the Bat’s infamous logo.

"Thank you, Bruce," she sighed in relief as she ran a search for  _ some kind _ of communication system. There had to be some way to contact-

"Big Rico's Pizza, no one does a slice like-"

"Barbara!" Zatanna scolded the image of the young, teen hero on her screen that nearly had her jumping out of her skin.

She was in her Batgirl gear, but her cowl was set off to the side, a precalculus textbook and two sets of notebooks sitting in front of her. Her expression and posture was relaxed, nonchalant, as if she’d been bored out of her mind switching back and forth between homework and monitor duty.

That's right.

"Isn't it a  _ school night _ ? What are you doing in the cave?" Zatanna brought a chair up to the console, and folded her arms as Barbara answered her. The magician nearly kicked her feet up onto the keyboard as well, but set the tempation aside. She needed to retain at least a margin of authority in this situation.

"Bruce wanted me on comms in case anyone found themselves in trouble tonight. A lot's happening in Gotham, y'know. Especially the closer we get to Halloween."

"So you tell me," Zatanna sighed.

Despite the glare on her glasses, Zatanna could see Barbara's eyes scanning the screen. Always trying to be five steps ahead, this one was. But it was something to be admired for one so young.

"Ran into trouble at Arkham, I take it?"

"Only a bit," Zee admitted, "I woke up somewhere  _ down _ in Intensive and didn't have a way  _ up _ . I figured finding the cave was a good place to start searching for John and Raven."

"Hmm, that's weird."

"What? That Bruce told me about-"

"No, our feed from the remaining security team at Arkham? It's been put into a loop... Give me a second..." She typed something into the computer, scrolling and searching.

After only a minute or two, she sighed. "Go figure, the asylum's been compromised. Just... what  _ exactly _ were you guys doing, anyway?"

"Bruce didn't tell you?” Zatanna let out a soft, derisive scoff, “Arkham Island’s haunted, and the  _ spooky specters  _ are disrupting the renovations."

The young teen's eyebrows furrowed together in thought, and she turned away to face another of the screens to her right. More typing, more scrolling. Zatanna was getting the same vibe as the time she needed help to look up a very  _ specific _ book at the library.

"What time would you say you ran into trouble?” the teen finally asked, “Walk me through what happened."

Slowly, with Zatanna recounting her experience and Barbara matching it with what footage she could salvage from the asylum, they pieced together what must have transpired between the moment that Zee's family had arrived up to now.

"A lot of the footage is corrupted from around the moment that you might've passed out. Don't want to rule out poltergeist activity on that,  _ but _ it also might've been one of the rogues that got loose. Let me check who’s supposed to be booked there now." Barbara typed something into the computer once more, likely pulling up a list of the rogues that were in custody. "Let’s see, there's Harley, Ivy, Scarecrow-"

"Riddler!" Zatanna gasped in realization, "The voice I heard when I woke up. It was hard to hear, but it was  _ him _ ."

The teen paused for a moment, turning to another screen before nodding to herself. “This kind of scrubbing does fit his M-O. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s scrambled or deleted footage to cover his tracks like this.”

“Barbara, go ahead and let Batman know which rogues might be loose. I just need to know one thing: does this computer have access to League files, or Batman’s files on Arkham?”   

“Yes, all of his satellite batcaves are synced to homebase, here with me. Is there anything I can help you find?”

The sorceress took note of how the girl subtly pushed her homework further down the desk, giving her more room to switch between screens as she put her cowl on, ready to turn on her comm link to update Bruce on the situation.

“If it’s anything like a Watchtower computer, I think I’ll manage,” she gave the teen a winning smile and mock salute, “Thanks, though. Just let Bruce know we’ve got things handled here,”.

“You got it,” Batgirl nodded before taking the videofeed offline. The magician made note of the chat function that immediately popped up on her screen, with links to files that Barbara had already bookmarked for her.

Always five steps ahead.

Without hesitation, Zatanna began opening file after file, checking records of deceased patients and making her own notes of the places on the island they’d be most likely to linger.

She needed to check that their research beforehand was accurate. She had to be sure that they were well equipped to handle this situation.

They may have been taken off guard by the spirits once. But she’d be damned if she let it happen again...

...

She’d heard the unmistakable cry of her mother’s screams echoing in the house. She’d hit the floor running faster than she ever had in her life. 

Only to be met with the cruel grin of the monster before her.

Everything after had been noise.

Noise and darkness, a sweet nothingness that eventually broke.

It’d been very soon after that time, that she came to realize and even accept that she had died. What had taken even longer, however, was figuring out why she had been left behind.

She’d expected her grandmother, for certain, and had more than enough suspicion that her mother should have been waiting for her as well. And yet, she’d awoken in her own bed. Completely alone.

That is, if an  _ ‘awakening’ _ is what you could truly call what happens when a disembodied soul gains enough sentience and energy to form itself. 

This echo, this shadow, was all that was left of Harriet Arkham. 

Those first few weeks had helped to keep her grounded to reality. Anywhere she heard her name spoken, often in hushed tones or reverent whispers, she was sure to manifest. Until she had just enough of a grasp of her  _ self _ to begin exploring the island in new light again.

She’d found the night was the most comforting time for those occasions, roaming first the halls of her home, but eventually feeling emboldened to make her way to the gardens that she had so loved in her short life.

She’d spent so many afternoons there with her father in life, and even more now in death. He’d sigh her name while tending to her favorite flowers, and make her wonder if he sensed her presence.

Make her hope that maybe he’d know of a way to let her lingering end, to help her move on.

But there had never been any answer to her questions, no matter how much she begged and pleaded with him to see her, to acknowledge her. And eventually, he stopped visiting even that part of the island as well.

She’d tried to follow him only once. That last time she’d seen him in the manor, as he was escorted out by some of the doctors and orderlies. She’d followed them out of his office, into the open air, and even up to the gate. Very near those same gardens that they’d spent so much time in.

The gate that would serve as the pass, through the hillside, and eventually on to the entrance. A gate she’d passed through with ease so many times in life.

An  _ iron _ gate that now held her there against her will, kicking and screaming as she watched her father move through, to a part of the island in which she wasn’t allowed to follow.

There were many things that Harriet Arkham had learned in all of her years since her death. But not one of them had helped her thus far, to escape from what had slowly become a hell of her father’s making...

…

As she continued reading the files, Zatanna could feel a sharp drop in air temperature as energy gathered directly behind her. It seemed impossible, though, that there’d be any reason for supernatural activity in a place so secluded from the rest of the island. And yet, there it was, a portal opening up right in the middle of Bruce’s makeshift Batcave. 

Zatanna pointed her wand directly at the portal, ready to face whatever horror that dared to pour out from it. Only to be pleasantly surprised as her daughter tumbled forward, tucking and rolling across the floor before settling at the sorceress’ feet.

“Raven! Are you okay? What-” She paused, registering the girl’s tear-filled, red eyes.

Danger. A feeling of dread settling in her stomach as she watched those tears spill over the edge of the girls eyes, and her voice break as she gave Zatanna her desperate message.

“It’s Dad,” she said, “He told me to  _ leave _ him behind. I think he’s in  _ real _ danger this time!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constantine and Raven have another close encounter with the entity.

According to Ivy (or rather  _ Pam _ , as Raven learned she preferred to be called), the space they occupied in Intensive Treatment was referred to as the  _ Lobby _ , though it really served as one of  _ several _ parts of the asylum's processing system. Dr. Arkham had redirected all communications and remaining administration to this room while renovations were focused deeper within the building. Evidently, this was to make the process of moving out all of that same equipment easier, once the administration systems were updated at the mansion.

This was all  _ incredibly _ boring to Raven, but she tried her best to feign interest. Which was much easier when Pam began to muse aloud about how Riddler might have focused on picking off the staff and security in the room to take control of the asylum. And, evidently, to promptly escape.

"The dates on these security feeds are wrong," Pam pointed out after she'd checked another guard's pulse. "Ed doesn't want anyone to know what movements occurred after the break-out, and probably during it too. Don't suppose you're any good with computers, are you Raven?"

The girl shook her head. "I've got a friend who's great with them. But I think we're out of luck."

"Well, if checking an accurate feed is out, then we'll have to see about getting your parents to come to us..."

Which is why after a few minutes of messing with the microphones and the PA system, Pam settled on a pretty clear and concise message. With some help, and  _ gentle _ suggestions from Raven, of course.

And while not entirely appropriate, Raven was grateful that Pam didn't seem to mind her sitting on one of the desks and swinging her feet in thought as they waited for one, or hopefully both, of her parents to answer their call. Quite a number of anxious minutes had already passed, but Pam insisted they wait first before making another announcement, or before calling the authorities. 

She wanted to be careful, and she was fearful of what it might mean if she was found with so many staff members unconscious while she was  _ essentially _ running free. This was something Raven understood.

So for now, she was idle, and they passed the time by sharing a few stories. More than she'd ever want to admit, Raven was curious about how the villains of Gotham operated. There was something about crime that had always been very appealing to her. Something she tried to tell herself was strictly a passing curiosity that would fade with time and other interests taking hold.

And while the logical, human part of her knew that she shouldn't be so tempted even by the thought of breaking the most  _ basic _ of rules and laws, John often warned her it would be a permanent part of her very  _ nature _ as a half-demon.

Sure, he and Zee liked to  _ ironically _ refer to her as their little angel, but that never stopped them from acknowledging her more demonic tendencies.

Only when appropriate, though. Despite how predisposed she should be to being ' _ bad _ ', she liked to think she was very  _ good _ at being ' _ good _ '.

Not that she was ever given much time to muse on what that  _ fully _ meant. She knew both Constantine and Zatanna had their own brushes with vice and sin, try as they might to lead by example for her sake. One of the first things that they had tried to explain to her, was how one’s actions and motivations may not be as  _ black and white _ as to be labeled distinctly  _ good _ or  _ evil _ .

It didn’t seem possible back then to Raven. But the more she had learned to listen, the more she’d learned and begun to understand how truly grey this world she lived in could be.

Which was probably why she was beginning to feel more sympathy for Pam than she had initially, as she learned of the botanist’s usually well-meaning intentions, and the psychosis that had her taking things to such awful extremes.

As the botanist was mid-sentence in recalling the  _ stunt _ that had brought her back to the asylum, Raven felt two auras enter the room. One definitely more familiar than the other.

"Raven!" a voice called with a hint of relief in his tone.

There were heavy footsteps as the owner of the voice began running, and the girl turned on her perch to confirm her suspicions.

"Daddy!" She practically leapt into the air at the sight of the exorcist, who was no worse for wear than she was, and nearly tackled him with her hug.

"I woke up in the gardens. And Pam was there. And I thought I'd never see you again. And I thought there was-" she tried explaining in a rush, cut off as he engulfed her in a hug.

"It's all right, Rae, I'm  _ here _ ," he hugged her even tighter with each word, " _ I'm here now _ ."

Raven hugged him back just as fiercely, and didn't bother stopping her tears from falling. There was no use denying the relief she felt at the sight of him, especially since it was too late to stop it now. Another emotion to let in, and to let go.

Harley sighed quietly, "I love a happy ending, don't you Red?"

"Hmm," Pam hummed from the perch Raven had vacated, leisurely walking down a short flight of stairs to join them.

"Thanks again, Harley,” Constantine said, shifting his hand from Raven’s head to shake theirs, “And you too, Miss-"

"Just Pam, please,” she held up her hand in polite refusal of the handshake, “And since you seem to have a handle on things-"

"Aww, but Red,” the harlequin whined, “They're still missing  _ Zanna _ ! Can't you stick around just for-"

"No."

The two argued and John finally released Raven to inspect her as she calmed herself.

"How're you feeling?” he asked, “I know  _ I _ was scared when-"

"Daddy, I'm not..." she sighed, closing her eyes for a second. She breathed evenly, choosing her words carefully. "I...  _ was _ scared, but I'm okay, I promise. I just want to find Mom now."

John brought her close for another hug, sighing, "Yeah, me too, kid."

A crash echoed around them, sending the group’s heads whipping towards the back of the lobby. The source of the sound came from past heavy doors, definitively locked and sealed.

But even that fact was not enough to comfort the rogues, as Harley reached for Pam’s hand, and pulled her along as she waved at the mystics  _ goodbye _ . “As fun as that seems, we best  _ skedaddle _ before we’re in too deep! Good luck!” 

For all her talk and trying to convince Pamela to help them, Harley seemed to have more than enough  _ sense _ to know when she’d be in over her head. 

“But  _ Harley _ !  _ Pam _ you said-!” Constantine held tighter to the girl as she protested, not letting her break away to follow the rogues.

“Let them be, Raven. They’ve helped us more than enough. And we still don’t know  _ half _ the danger we might be in-”

As the doors shut with loud  _ bangs _ behind the two Sirens, papers began flying from the desks that lined the lobby’s entrance hall. They stirred into the electrified air, kicking up a bigger and bigger mess as it moved closer to the duo. Sparks mingled dangerously with the papers, as if threatening to be set ablaze with just the right touch.

Poltergeist activity. 

Or maybe it was demonic. It was hard to tell for certain at this point.

Raven could distinctly feel where most of  _ its _ energy was placed in the room, though it had yet to show it’s form to them. And just as she was about to tell her father exactly where  _ it _ was, John knocked the wind out of her by whisking her away with him.

And making the grave mistake of running them further into the building.

The empath could sense the  _ being _ hot at his heels, keeping measured pace behind them as John ran for those same heavy doors, now quieted. With no further activity from them, Raven could feel his panic rationalizing it as  _ safer _ than the pressing danger behind them. She tried to raise her voice, yelling at her father about the ruse, the clear  _ game _ that this  _ being _ was playing with them.

But Constantine’s mind seemed only focused on one thing: getting his daughter to safety.

Raven beat her fists uselessly on his back, yelling at him about the anger and loss she felt as he carried her deeper into the building. She nearly broke as he seemed to ignore her, being of a single mind about the presence he could  _ see _ approaching behind them.

She felt an overwhelming sense of dread, and began to realize it wasn’t coming just from within. The adrenaline coursing through Constantine’s veins, the threat of violence emanating from the presence following so close behind them, and finally the sorrow she felt bleeding through the walls around them.

She felt blackness overtake her as her consciousness shut itself down. She’d never felt so much fear assaulting her empathic shields from all sides, but as the black closed in, she welcomed it like the warmth of a heavy blanket. A moment’s reprieve from the stress around them...

…

It’s a common misconception. That the dead are in denial.

Certainly at first, during those terrifying moments when your soul hasn’t quite grasped or accepted what has occured to you, there’s some room to block everything out and continue on as if nothing had happened.

The patient tended to roses next, frowning in thought as he observed more than a few wilting leaves.

It was easy, in a place such as this, to get swept back into the routine. Rising for breakfast, morning gardening time, lunch, afternoon group therapy, rec room time, dinner, bed.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

He moved towards the lavender, frowning as he noticed several missing.

But it’s the little moments that a ghost will pick up on. The whispers and hushed tones with which those around will address him with. The thousand mile stare as he tries to get their attention. The way he tends to get lost even further in the shuffle than ever before.

Until finally it all comes to a halting realization.

No, never acceptance. Not usually. Not fully.

Not for something so brutal, so awful, so inhumane.

His fingers trace the ends of the stems lightly. Imperfect snips. Harsh breaks and snaps where they had been torn. 

It came with a certain privileges, though. Moving about the island so much more freely than he’d ever been able to in life. With only one thing holding him back from exploring the rest of that wonderfully wide world he’d never had the chance to explore in life.

But something kept calling him back to those damn gardens.

Something he needed to find.

A desperation took ahold of him then, and he clutched at it, using it to move the dirt and lavender away.

He had to find  _ it _ . He had to be sure  _ it _ was still there.

It’s a common misconception. That the dead are in denial.

Many were merely tortured by what they’d left behind.

…

Raven was roused as John took a sharp turn around a couple of corners.

It wasn’t long before he stumbled into a corridor with offices lining it on either side, and picked one at random to run into, finally setting Raven down and getting to work on locking the door behind them.

Using all of the strength he could muster, Constantine forced the desk into place. A physical barrier would only hold supernatural entities for so long without proper binding and runes. But there was no time to start carving them now.

She knew what he was thinking. That there was something more precious on the line.

Raven watched as he began to pull a chair aside, gauging the distance of the air duct running by the ceiling from where he would stand underneath.

"Raven, I'm going to hoist you up there, luv. You understand?" he began, adjusting the height of the chair.

Eyes wide, and feeling his repressed anxiety, Raven immediately shook her head in protest.

"I'm not gonna leave you," she scowled, balling her hands into fists. She just got him back dammit! "You need me! I can tell it to go away, I can help you bind it, I-"

"We won't be able to do much of anything till we figure out  _ exactly _ what we're facing-"

Three loud  _ thuds _ against the door cut them off. They turned to it briefly. Quiet descended as shadows began shifting underneath the door. The entity finally deciding to take form.

Raven tried to focus on getting a better read on the figure. She couldn’t fully recognize it as anything they had encountered so far, but she reasoned that might’ve been a good thing. Maybe it meant different spirits were more  _ contained _ than she’d thought.

"No more arguing," her dad glared right back at her, interrupting her concentration, "You're getting out." One step and then another onto the chair. "You're finding Zee." Some fiddling and pulling against the vent grate, and a final smash against its corners to loosen it. "And you're bringing the cavalry back to me. Got it?"

He stepped down to scoop her up, only to have the girl step away from him. She curled herself into a corner of the room, knowing it'd be harder for him to get ahold of her.

"No. Let me take you with me! I can do it!" Angry tears began forming in her eyes, despite her best efforts. She was as calm as she could stand, but even that had limits. "I can.. I'll use my-"

Constantine finally scooped her up by her arms and took a step onto the chair with her. She began to beat small, weak fists into his shoulder, outright sobbing now with no care for the pain she was letting him feel.

There had been a reason they'd trained her! She was supposed to be ready for this! She was always ready to get out of a tough spot!

And yet, with a  _ presence _ , an  _ entity _ looming so violently close. It was nearly impossible to concentrate.

Like taking a test with a crowd of people talking all around you, being so in and out of tune to what was being said. Sure, she was confident that she'd be able to do it. But he wasn't giving her time to prove it!

"Let me try! Please Daddy, don't make me leave you!"

The exorcist kept his face rigid, lifting her up to the vent's dusty entrance, coughing a bit as the dirt began to settle all around him.

She could feel his resolve, and resigned herself to pulling her body up the rest of the way into the vent.

She wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to dry her face a little before she turned back to face her dad one last time.

"You'll be right back, luv. Find Zee, figure out what we're dealing with over here, and you'll both be back with me before you know it."

"I hate you," she smiled at him, another group of tears falling from her eyes. It wasn't appropriate, but it  _ was _ a good luck charm.

"I know. But that's what happens when your pop is a dead man walking," he winked at her a bit conspiratorially before she turned away, coughing as her hands and legs kicked up more dust that had settled throughout the ventilation system.

…

The young empath tugged at her mother’s hand now, pulling as she let her feel all of the worry she had been holding in, worry she felt for all of them. More than a few frustrated tears spilled as the older sorceress showed no signs of moving.

She’d taken too long searching the grounds for any sign of her mother’s aura, and even longer to hone in on it, and properly teleport to the cave. Now Raven only had one thing on her mind; bringing the cavalry to her father, just as he had asked.

“That’s why we have to go help him,  _ now _ , Mom! He needs us!” she pleaded. Her worry settled only marginally as Zatanna knelt to eye level with her, taking the girl by both shoulders as she took a steadying breath.

“It’s okay to be scared now, Raven, okay?” she began, “But Constantine was right. We need to know what we’re up against. And that’s why I need you to stay right here with me now. I’m close to a break-through, Blackbird.”

“None of that’s going to matter if Dad’s dead!” the girl protested as the sorceress turned back to the computer. Files were compiled and sorted through, many more were being brushed away from the screens as Zatanna began bringing only relevant ones forward.

“I say this with a lot of love and experience, Raven,” Zee began, chucklingly lightly to herself, “Your dad’s like a cockroach. It’ll take more than a  _ demon _ or  _ poltergeist _ to do  _ him _ in.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rather anticlimactic escape as Constantine reminisces on what landed him in this mess in the first place.

Rattling with every knock that the entity used to make its presence known, the door held surprisingly firm in its frame. Years of testing by patients and spirits alike no doubt had left most of the asylum in a constant state of re-fortification. 

These were thoughts that Constantine didn’t have the luxury of mulling over. Due to the fact that he had a very angry and very real spirit after his worthless life and soul at the moment.

Or maybe  _ just _ his life. It was always hard to tell with how fickle these creatures seemed to be. And it’d been a hot minute in hell since any demon worth its salt had wanted  _ anything _ to do with his soul.

He debated chasing after his daughter. Sneaking through the ventilation system wasn’t looking half bad compared to the demon that seemed to be right at the door. But if Raven hadn’t made it out yet, it’d just as likely end up being on  _ her _ heels as his. And John knew he couldn’t live with himself if that happened.

No, it simply wasn’t a viable option at the moment. So that meant sticking it out a few minutes longer. Just long enough to come up with  _ some _ kind of plan for escape.

Or maybe long enough for the spirit to bore itself with this chase? It didn’t happen often, but sometimes the demonologist could count on catching a break from these things through patience and stamina.

Not that he’d had much stamina to spare these days, what with all the damage he’d been taking to his lungs. Hadn’t caught up with him yet, but he’d deal with that consequence at a later date.

Ignoring how his heart beat like a jackhammer in his chest, the exorcist began muttering a few latin prayers under breath, in the hopes that he’d find just the right one to drive the demon further back. The knocking came less frequently with each phrase whispered into the air around him, the temperature of the room returning to something much more comfortable compared to it’s freezing state from before.

After a few agonizingly still seconds from the door, John felt emboldened enough to slow his chanting, eventually halting it completely.

Seconds turned to minutes and he made the- admittedly ill-advised- decision to move the desk, anxiously opening the door and peering into the hallway.

Only to see relative emptiness before him. No menacing  _ presence _ from before, no shadows playing against doors or tile. Once more, the hallway had returned to a mere passageway between rooms, rather than a death sentence for wandering souls.

There’d be no telling for how long, and Constantine certainly wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

Running through the halls, taking careful note of where each sign was leading him, John retraced his steps as best as he knew how. The goal, once more to reach the lobby and head for the nearest viable exit.

But as he passed offices and workspaces alike, therapy rooms of all kinds and purposes, he couldn’t help but recall the last time his daughter had been put in similar danger.

That same danger that the Bat was now holding against him. That same danger that he’d hoped Zatanna would never find out about.

…

Something that Constantine had never understood, was how Batman seemed perfectly content with allowing  _ actual _ children to be put in harm’s way like this, night after night. Especially when the stakes were as high as they were at the moment.

Especially when these children seemed to have a particularly nasty habit of finding themselves in the worst kind of trouble, with barely a prayer and a hope of getting out of said trouble alive.

Especially when these children thought it fit to involve his own adopted daughter in that same trouble.

His heart nearly stopped beating in his chest at the sight of them. Batgirl, Robin, and his own little girl, all tied together, hanging precariously over some tank of-

Now wait just a bloody moment. Did that wanker of a  _ so-called supervillain _ just say he had ‘em hanging over  _ acid _ ?

No. No, this wouldn’t do at all.

Those damn kids were supposed to be keeping watch over his little girl in the manor. Those damn brats were supposed to be in bed by nine, not staying out till the odd hours of the night when evil spirits and demons, metaphorical and literal, would come alive.

Not when the more pressing danger might be tied right there next to them, if Raven was pushed the wrong way.

And yet, there they were. An abandoned toy factory. Batman’s worst enemy with his hands on some accursed gauntlet that somehow sported genuine mystical energy within.

What was supposed to be a night of reconnaissance and consultation was quickly dissolving into outright confrontation.

And the occultist was none-too-pleased about that fact.

The Bat hadn’t clued Constantine in on any of the details, and John hadn’t thought to ask. There was only so far this tenuous trust between them would go, and with his girl’s life on the line and her blood possibly on his hands, John knew he’d be daft not to agree to whatever the hero had in mind.

So when Batman asked for a distraction, Constantine knew damn well to start delivering.

“Now, don’t go shooting off any beams or anything, mate. I’d like to request an audience with you,” Constantine called out lowly, hands raised in the air. With a villain like this, he only hoped that whatever the Bat was planning, he’d be quick about it.

“Daddy! Run! He’s gonna-”

The Joker wagged his finger and tutted as he summoned tape over the girl’s mouth, doing the same for each of the Bat’s sidekicks as well.

“Can’t have the kiddos spoiling the fun, now can we?” Joker sneered before giving Constantine his undivided attention. He mocked the Brit’s accent, over-exaggerating and obnoxious as he asked, “An’ jus’ wot the bloody ‘ell do  _ you _ want,  _ mate _ ?”

He threw his head back in a cackle, and John saw from the corner of his eye as shadows seemed to shift in the rafters around them. The Bat was getting himself into position.

No time to think, he’d have to really keep the clowns attention now before he went off the handle. There was no telling what he’d do at a moment’s notice. And given this newfound, and incredibly unstable power he had in his possession?

God help them, they’d need a bloody miracle to make it out alive.

Or maybe just an occultist with a knack for putting his foot in his mouth.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, or if you’ve heard this one,” Joker started within less than a beat of silence, “But I believe our captive audience member here just called you  _ ‘Daddy’ _ . You don’t quite strike one as a  _ family man _ , Mr. Constantine. Or are those rumors about you and that foxy magician friend of yours true? C’mon, Johnny boy, just between us!”

Face straight, eyes locked. Trained since day one on how to call a bluff. Didn’t take a genius to see that the madman would take to threatening John’s family next.

So why not go ahead and take that option away from the clown?

“What? The girl? Zee and I? You must be even more mental than I thought,” Constantine laughed, “Or haven’t you heard that John Constantine only looks after  _ one _ back? My own.”

“So this girl  _ really _ means  _ absolutely nothing _ to you?” the clown asked skeptically, eyebrows almost comically raised and stance becoming even more relaxed. Guards being brought down as he continued to give this ludicrous performance of control.

As he saw a shadow shift behind the supervillain, John kept his face rigid. He couldn’t give the game away too soon, or it’d all it be lost. Even as he felt bile rise in his throat, he forced those words out. His eyes glanced casually and carelessly to face his daughter’s own flashing red ones, tears already spilling over the edges and streaming on her cheeks.

“Why? Should she?”

…

It’d worked out in the end. The kids were saved, and John had had a serious talk with Raven afterwards about putting on a ruse, and the sacrifices it’d mean.

Sacrifices that included not telling Zatanna of what had happened that night.

He’d been grateful when she hadn’t asked too many questions about it, and even more so when she’d seemed to drop it all together. And he’d nearly forgotten all about the incident itself, until he’d had to pull nearly the same stunt, to a much worse degree, with Zatanna only a few short months after.

It’d been one of the final sparks to the longer-running and most insufferable part of their separation: figuring out just what to do with Raven.

But that was neither here nor there. He’d finally found the office he’d been searching for, taking careful note of how most of Jeremiah Arkham’s name had been scratched from the glass door. Nearly illegible, but not enough to make it indiscernible from the other offices.

Being a sensible man, John tried to door handle first, the smile on his face as it turned flashing into a frown as the door held fast in the frame. Only two logical explanations came to mind, being either that the frame was so old it was stuck, or that something was put behind it to block the entrance. The exorcist’s patience was wearing thin, and he took the only course of action that seemed appropriate, given the situation.

He took a step back, carefully positioned his legs for balance, and attempted to kick the door open.

“ _ Bloody hell!” _ he yelled as pain shot through his shin. The unforgiving door was no worse for wear, unmoving and uncaring.

“M-Mr. Constantine?” a voice called meekly from behind it.

Now here was something the exorcist hadn't been expecting. The plan had been to merely dig through the doctor's files for more clues about his family's history, or any further history on the island. But if he was right in suspecting who that voice belonged to...

John made a face as he nursed his leg. “Arkham? What’re you doin’ hidin’ in there, you old sod?” 

“It’s… It’s  _ my _ office.” John rolled his eyes at the defensive tone the old doctor’s voice was taking. Yep, definitely dear old Dr. Arkham.

“Then you’d best let me in, before this damned spirit decides to take another nip at the two’a us.”

After some considerable scraping of _something_ heavy along the tiled floors, the door to Dr. Arkham’s office was finally opened just enough for Constantine to slip through. And promptly shut behind him and kept firmly in place as the doctor gave one harsh push against his filing cabinet, back to its original position against the door.

The demonologist made note of how deep the grooves seemed to be within the tile. Evidently, this had been an ongoing practice even before tonight’s  _ activities _ had transpired.

These damn hosts to paranormal activity never seemed to learn, did they? Always withholding some _vital_ and _valuable_ pieces of information. 

John felt his blood pressure rise at the sight, and didn’t bother to stop himself as he pulled the doctor up by his coat, slamming the older man against the wall.

His daughter was being put in danger right at this moment, and if anyone would be sharing the blame, it’d be this damned doctor. Constantine had done his share of self-loathing and blaming. It was about damn time someone shared it with him, preferably before those he'd come to care about got hurt in the process.

“Something you forgot to mention about this bloody demon,  _ doc _ ?”

...

Jeremiah had been much more forthcoming on certain details, now that the illusion of control and shadows of doubt had been fully dissipated.

And with those details, it’d been clear to John that, though Elizabeth Arkham had left the door open for a variety of demons to make their home with this tumultuous family, this particular entity that they were dealing with had clear Judeo-Christian roots. Which narrowed down the proper exorcism process to classical latin and aramaic. Though, he’d venture to guess there’d be more luck with the former rather than the latter.

“You may have noticed all of those scarab beetles placed throughout the grounds and in the buildings,” Jeremiah offered. John certainly _hadn’t_ been paying such attention to details like those once they’d started on this wild goose chase, but he indulged the doctor as if he had. And Jeremiah continued. “She thought they’d bring luck and fortune for the family, given that they’d already strayed so far from the teachings of the church-”

“And you mentioned earlier, they’d been devout catholics, yeah?” Never hurt to double check these little stories for consistency, after all.

“Like I said. Even then, we’d used that term fairly loosely-”

“I don’t care about the politics of it all, Arkham. And I’ve heard enough of you prattling on.” John began rolling up his sleeves, carefully tucking at the seams before turning back to the desk. Gathering up the notes and sketches he’d made over the better part of the past hour, he finally felt a glimmer of hope and satisfaction at his handiwork.

They’d get the upper hand on this entity yet. Now it was the small matter of making it out of this damn building and finding his girls.

But first, the small matter of this meddlesome doctor.

“Might seem a bit counterintuitive, doc, but could I trouble you for a- oh, bugger all-”

He gave up on the ruse rather quickly, opting instead for a quick wind up, and even quicker cold-clock against the older man’s temple, knocking him out. John nursed his hand for a minute, flexing at the already harsh bruising his knuckles would be taking on from such a harsh blow.

Not always his style, but given that John’s anger from earlier hadn’t completely vanished, and that he needed a guarantee of no further surprises from either patients or staff tonight, it felt just a smidge justified.

Plus, seeing the poor sod hit the floor so quickly was more than a little satisfying, given the hell they’d likely face before the night was through, thanks to the the doctor and this wretched family of his.

No time to linger too long on that bitterness, however. Constantine had a plan, a means to execute it, and a newfound determination to reunite with his family. And he’d damn anything that even so much as _thought_ about getting in his way now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as of 10/24/18, going on a mini hiatus to rework the ending chapters & possibly restructure ch 8. we'll pick this back up in time for next halloween though! till then, enjoy some of my other works! thanks to everyone who's left feedback so far & will continue to do so.


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